A Fated Arrangement
by barely-miracles
Summary: Upon learning of a potentially unfavorable future, Emperor Sorean decides that it is time for Melia to take on a consort. And he knows exactly who it must be. Follows the original story with some alterations and additional plots of my own. Spoiler warning for anyone who hasn't already finished the game.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N - Hello! My name is barely-miracles, but you can call me Mira if you'd like. This is my first fic in the Xenoblade fandom, so I'm really nervous. Please let me know what you think! (I'm open to constructive criticism). Anyway, please enjoy this chapter. I hope you'll review, favorite, and follow!**

* * *

Melia knelt down in the grass, closing her eyes as she felt the gentle green blades tickling her shins. It had been too long since she had been able to simply relax. Telethia terrorizing her people, her increased royal duties, it all seemed to pile up unbearably. A faint sigh freed itself from her lungs, allowing - if only for a brief moment - an outward expression of her internal turmoil. Guilt and woeful longing built up within her, enough to create a dreary palace in which she could store such negative emotions.

Sometimes it seemed as though she did little else those days. She hid everything she could manage realistically, but her feelings especially. Perhaps it was merely the way she had been trained to behave. Endless lessons replayed themselves in her mind, reminded her to be silent unless spoken to. Not to mention the barked reprimands - stand up straight, be charming, eat the food even when it is far from delicious and not even mildly tasty.

Yet she always obeyed.

Though, perhaps that was only because she had not known that she could have refused. She had wanted to be the best heiress that had ever lived, however, and very few held the power to change her mind. It would have taken years to reverse the effects of such rigorous training - time she did not possess for the world was crumbling around them.

The Bionis deteriorated beneath her floating utopia, the decay more noticeable as the days wore on. And she merely watched from her shelter, through thick glass panes and wisps of fragmented cloud.

There had to be something she could do for them - those little people who always seemed so far away. Who were they, she wondered. What dreams did they have? Her mind invented question after question as she stared ever downward, still unable to see them through the veil that was the Eryth Sea. In all her years of royal training, she had never formally learned about those beings called Homs. There had just been her mother - the only one she had ever laid eyes upon. And yet, her father expected that one day, she would break the rules of isolationism in order to take a Homs man as a consort.

She knew nothing about their race, nothing concretely factual anyway. Only the things her mother had told her when they were both much younger. She had never seen a male Homs before. All she had been told since her training began was that she would eventually be required to produce a child with a creature that remained completely unknown to her.

And she couldn't help but feel afraid. It was an emotion with which she was well-acquainted, meaning that, by now, she knew exactly how to force it down. But, this time, she couldn't quite manage it, no matter how tightly she hugged her knees to her chest. She longed for her mother's embrace, knowing full well that it was forever gone. Her mother had died decades ago, left her alone with emotions that overwhelmed her on a daily basis. Now, she had no one to confide in. Except Kallian.

As if on cue, she heard the telltale footsteps pounding down the pathway to the Imperial Villa's entrance. She briefly entertained the idea of remaining seated. Perhaps he would not notice her, pass her by. Then her feelings and royal duties could be kept at bay until she was better equipped to take care of them. But she knew that such behavior was unacceptable.

"Good morning, brother," she greeted as she stood and brushed stray blades of grass from her clothes. "Did you need me for something?"

Kallian turned to face her, smiled warmly. "I wish that I did not. But, yes. Father has requested your presence in the throne room." He approached her cautiously, as if he thought that she might lash out if he drew close too suddenly. "Perhaps we may eat together first. You know that I must soon depart for Valak Mountain. I had hoped to spend time with you before I left."

"Yes, of course," she replied, walking past him to head into the villa. Except, she had not been aware of her brother's impending departure. She tried not to let him see her disappointment or her curiosity. Why had she not been informed? And what was the purpose of Kallian being sent away?

"Melia."

She stopped mid-stride and turned, slightly cocking an eyebrow at him.

He laughed softly, almost too gentle to hear even from such a short distance away. "There is a new restaurant that opened in the commercial sector mere days ago. I thought it would be nice to try it. Just the two of us. Don't you think so?"

A small smile invaded her lips. She could not prevent herself from being slightly more expressive when Kallian was around. He always brought out the best in her. Briefly, she wondered how she would manage in his absence. If she could not drop her guard every few days... She cleared the thought from her head and found herself nodding.

"That sounds like a lovely idea."

* * *

The royal siblings sat down at a small table in the back corner of the restaurant. The nearby window had a decent view and Melia stared out of it idly, watching a merchant sell his wares across the street. She carefully studied each object he had to offer but she gave special attention to a rather expensive looking locket. What did it hold within? She wondered if it was burdened with as many secrets as she was.

Her brother followed her gaze, found the delicate piece of jewelry. "That is a beautiful necklace there." His eyes darted over to Melia's face, seeking a reaction. However, she refused to award him one. "Would you be happier if I bought it for you?"

"What do you mean by that?" she demanded. Despite her best efforts to disguise it, her tone was clearly defensive. A slight cough rattled her lungs as she regained her composure. "Brother, I am perfectly happy."

He nodded once, agreeing with her and letting the matter rest. Not long after, the food they had ordered was brought to them. They ate in absolute silence. A comfortable silence, Melia noted, in which they did not speak because they felt no need to. It was not for a lack of subjects, as the two of them surely had years of topics to discuss. But perhaps, they did not talk for the simple reason that it was more relaxing to enjoy good food and better company without the stress of a meaningful conversation.

As they finished their meals, the talking inevitably began again. Kallian set down his utensils then cast another glance out of the window. Melia knew he was looking at the locket again, but told herself not to say anything about it. Although, she _did_ wonder why her brother took such exaggerated interest in the object. Surely he knew that she did not want - or deserve - gifts from him. Especially not expensive gifts.

"But if I did purchase it," he said, breaking the peaceful quiet, "would you like it?"

Melia thought on that question for a while, kept her brother waiting for as long as she considered to be polite. "I would," she said at last, catching the small glimpse of relief that relaxed her brother's usually tense features. "Yet, I do not think I should ever wear it."

His face took on a disappointed expression, but he did not press further. And she was not inclined to tell him the reason if he did not ask for it. Besides, she was reluctant to share with him the full truth. That she could not trouble him in such a way. That she could not wear a locket that only ever reminded her of how delicate she truly was. A locket that would forever remain empty because there was no room in her heart for sentimentality.

* * *

When they returned to the palace, Kallian walked her up to the transporter. They said swift, curt goodbyes then went their separate ways. Melia felt a slight pang of loneliness resonate within her as she watched him go. It was foolish, of course. But truly, she was saddened to see him leave for she had wished to ask him to speak further on his expedition. She shoved that thought aside; he would be home soon enough and she could discuss the journey when he had had time to rest.

She stepped into the transporter. Within seconds, she entered her father's throne room. The glass staircase always amazed her when she was a child. Surpressing a smile, she walked up the shimmering steps in a state of serene remembrance until she came face to face with her father and four knights.

Their names popped into her head immediately: Aizel, Hogard, Garan, and Damil. She knew them well by this point in her life as they had been charged with guarding her whenever she was sent to the Frontier Village on official business. Not that they were necessarily needed, but she allowed herself to feel safe if she knew they were nearby. It felt like nothing could touch her when they watched over her. She was invincible.

"Father..." Melia forced herself out of her head and curtsied elegantly. "You requested my presence? How may I be of service?"

"My dear daughter, I sent Kallian to bring you over an hour ago," Sorean replied, shaking his head slightly. But she caught the twinkle in his eye and knew he was not angered by the delay. Perhaps he found it cute - though Melia resented such a description. "No matter. I am afraid that I have an urgent quest for you. It may not wait any longer, which is why you must personally see it through to its completion."

"Of course, Father," she agreed. "What must I do?"

"Kill the Telethia that has been rampaging in Makna Forest."

She felt a wave of dread wash over her, turn all of her internal organs upside-down. A Telethia... But it was her first real mission on her own and she allowed her determination to override the sense of misgiving. So she merely nodded, briefly, decisively. Her father's grim smile was her only reward, the only goodbye she received before her and the four knights set out.

The journey was barely over two hours long, but it felt like days had passed by the time the five travelers arrived in Makna Forest. She meant that in the best way possible because every extended moment she spent with her four friends was a blessing. Even when Hogard and Damil argued the entire way about who was more handsome. Even when Aizel started to sing drinking songs in the wrong keys. Garan would try to help from time to time, though he soon gave up. Aizel was unteachable.

They wandered about in the forest with no real plan. Carry on as usual... Which meant horrible singing, playful arguing, and casual discussion. Melia had only just began a conversation about how curious Nopon traditions were when a monstrous shriek ripped through the air. Much closer than they had been expecting.

Aizel's voice cut off, all idle chatter faltered. The knights drew their swords and Melia's grip on her staff tightened. Despite the hour of day, their sight was impaired for the dense trees allowed very little sunlight to filter in. They circled around, sometimes managing to catch a glimpse of a dark shadow as the beast flew in closer. Hogard grabbed Melia's arm, pulled her into their defensive formation in order to protect her from most angles of attack.

"Do not worry, Princess," he assured, though his voice sounded strained. "We shall keep you safe."

That was when hell broke loose. It happened too fast to be certain of what truly occurred. One moment, her dear friends were telling her that they could protect her. Then the next, she was alone. Only corpses remained of the four men. Disfigured, bloody corpses.

She knelt down beside one of them, her knee sinking into the warmth of recently spilled blood. The fingers of her left hand brushed against his face - unrecognizable due to the number of gashes ripped in his flesh. Perhaps this one was Garan. Sweet, quiet Garan who was meant to go home before nightfall to be reunited with his pregnant wife.

Or it was Aizel whose voice should have still been singing as they made their way home after successfully completing the quest. And Hogard could not stray there too long for his ailing grandmother needed him to care for her. Melia shook him gently, tried to remind him of his relative. But he would not listen.

The one thrown just apart from the other three... It was undeniably Damil. His face untouched by the devil's claws and his grey eyes merely stared. She was drawn in by them. She took comfort in staring back even though she could see nothing but fear in those irises. Fear and the telltale glaze of death. But it was not possible for such a man to return to the Bionis. Not when he had unfulfilled dreams. Not when he had already chased them so far. He had wanted to retire from the army one day, become an artist. Dead fingers cannot paint...

Melia stood, knocked out of her thoughts by the Telethia's shrieks. Staff outstretched, she summoned element after element. She launched a few, summoned more. One last look to the men she had failed. Then she ran.

It was her fault. Four men were dead and her own shortcomings were responsible. She had deprived good families of their sons, brothers, husbands, fathers. She selfishly believed that they could protect her. She had not tried hard enough to protect them. She had thrown precious lives to the ground, stomped on them until they were ragged and broken. A ruler did not do such wretched things. The ruler she wanted to be would have never acted so carelessly...

Without her consent, a strangled sob ripped through her lips. She pressed her free hand over her mouth, attempted to force her own emotions into submission. But she could not manage it - she briefly wondered if she would ever be able to do so again. However, the presence of the Telethia prevented any further thoughts.

She brandished her staff in treacherously shaking hands, called upon the elemental spirits in screaming and unsteady tones. Tears flowed out of her eyes, far beyond even the slightest hope of control. And she continued screeching, even when her words lost meaning.

The Telethia leaned in close enough that she felt its breath upon her bloodless, sweat-soaked skin. Hot, damp breath that sapped her strength like a gaseous parasite. Her auras vanished without warning, her knees buckled. She felt an impact, saw strange lights and colors dance across her view of the forest canopy. Then nothing. No sensations - a sable blanket smothering her eyes, nose, mouth, and ears.

Everything was gone, consumed by that dreadful nothingness.


	2. Chapter 2

In her mind, Melia could hear voices. Soft and singing. She recognized them, tried to turn her face away from the darkness that had fallen upon her surroundings. A desire to see once more the men she had thought lost to her swelled in the center of her chest. They seemed so close, yet she could not find them, could not shift her position for a better view. So she rested and listened.

The voices certainly belonged to Aizel and Garan. Though that was what confused her. Aizel sounded lovely, as though he deserved a solo in a choir of angels. And Garan did not doubt himself. He sang with confidence, voice mixing in perfect harmony with Aizel's. But that was not how she remembered them. Quiet Garan, tone-deaf Aizel...

As the voices drew closer, became louder, they morphed into something foreign. Their sweet tones gave way to gruff speech and she could not decipher the words. A different language, perhaps. She wanted to raise her head, open her eyes, but she felt frozen. Cold, motionless. Her mind's eye gifted her with detailed visions, as lifelike as if she were actually there. With that familiar little teal-eyed girl.

They were in a room, austere in decoration, completely empty save for a writing desk and a transporter. Its icy blue light flickered treacherously then vanished. The little girl set down her pen. The other lights had gone out as well, making it impossible to see the messy words she had been scrawling across the document on the desk.

Cautiously, the High Entia child approached the transporter. Her tiny hands pressed against the metal, tried beating it into submission. But the machine was truly dead and her only route of escape no longer available to her.

The room - windowless, doorless - dropped in temperature, quickly becoming frigid. Melia felt her own body shake in response. In an attempt to keep warm, the little girl took up her practice staff and summoned fire. A flame burst to life, weakly casting its warmth and glow upon the child. She sniffled back tears, puffed out a breath that hovered as mist in the air in front of her. Then her eyes raised to meet Melia's identical ones.

"Can you help me?"

Melia jolted awake, the girl's tearful question ringing in her ears. When she fully regained consciousness, a face dominated her view. It was gentle, concerned, but utterly unfamiliar to her. Deep blue eyes stared down at her and, for a moment, that was all she could focus on. This creature's gaze must have entrapped her.

With no small effort, she freed herself enough to realize that this thing that held her in its arms was not a High Entia. It had similar features to her mother, though. So, perhaps... Her eyes widened involuntarily. A male Homs. Before she could stop herself, she hit him away.

"Get your hands off me!" Certainly, that was her voice, yet it sounded strange to her ears. Almost as if she were listening to an echo of her original statement. Or maybe the strangeness came from the desperation that so clearly dripped from the words she had spoken.

The male Homs backed away from her, allowing her to see for the first time that he was not alone. There were three others with him - two males and one female. She focused her attention on the woman, forced herself to recognize similarities between this Homs and her late mother. The task was easier than she had expected. Her mother had possessed dark eyes, like this woman. Loving brown eyes that haunted her dreams whenever she fell asleep feeling in need of maternal guidance.

She was content to simply stare at this Homs female, but then she heard Hogard's voice behind her. _Your Highness, you must not focus all your energy on a single enemy else the others will surprise you._

A familiar sentiment, she noted. It was something she'd been reminded of constantly as her quests became increasingly dangerous.

So she tore her gaze away, studied the two other males. The first seemed more mountain than man with a towering spine and bulging muscles. Instinctively, she felt unease pool in her stomach. And she had never seen hair so much like fire before. It was more than a little unsettling, especially as he crept closer to her, reached out a hand. His voice boomed in her ears and she was momentarily dazed by its violence.

Then her attention shifted to the final man. He observed her in silence, surely noticing that she was appraising him as well. This one seemed...gentler, wiser than the red-head. She appreciated those traits for they were ones present in most High Entia. Quickly, she turned back to the current situation, rising to her feet and making a mental note to study this one more at a later date.

"Forgive me," she said, not certain if the tide of conversation had turned, but knowing she was required to apologize for her appalling behavior. They received it as well as she had expected - suspicious tones accompanying their acceptance of her apology.

They exchanged introductions with her. The male she had slapped was named Shulk, the mountain was Reyn, and the woman called herself Sharla. And the other male allowed himself a scarcely perceptible smile as he told her his name. Dunban. She nearly frowned at the familiarity of it, but caught herself just in time. Her curiosity was piqued and internally, she resolved to determine where she had heard his name before.

No time to think on it then, however, for the group launched into a description of their quest. Perhaps she had asked them to do so. She did not remember.

"The Bionis head?" she asked and they nodded confirmation. "Then I think I shall repay my debt to you by acting as your guide."

She knew that the only path to the head would take the foreigners through Eryth Sea - too close to her home for her liking. If she traveled with them, she could prevent them from bringing harm upon the capital and could assess their trustworthiness at the same time.

Gesturing to a well-worn path, she said, "This will lead us to Frontier Village, home of the Nopon. From there, we shall be able to reach Eryth Sea."

The group began their journey, Melia walking several feet ahead. She tried not to glance back at them too much for she was reluctant to offend them any further. Of course, she had pretended not to hear Sharla's comment about being 'high and mighty' and told herself she had imagined the sarcasm in Dunban's voice as he addressed her as 'ladyship'. At least they did not feel the need to insult her during their current travels...

As they walked, she kept her head up and her shoulders back - like a proper lady would - even though all she wished to do was curl up somewhere safe and mourn. She had remembered the deaths of her four friends the moment she had realized that the Homs posed no immediate threat. Then the weight of responsibility crashed down upon her delicate frame, threatening to crush her into a despairing oblivion. Yet she struggled onward, adamant in her judgement that such sorrow could not defeat her.

"You alright, Melia?"

She spun around and came face to face with Shulk. The Homs flinched, held up his arms as though to ward off a monster's attack.

"Please don't hit me again," he said, smiling for a reason that was unclear to her. "I just wanted to see how you're holding up. It looks like something's troubling you..."

"I am fine," she replied. "Thank you."

She suspected that he was not satisfied with her answer, yet he did not pry. He simply walked beside her for the remainder of their journey in amiable silence. And, despite her distrust of Homs men, she found that she was grateful for his presence for it was somewhat comforting. It felt as though he did not judge her as negatively as his friends did. Perhaps he meant to give her a chance, thinking friendship could develop between them. She briefly wondered why her heart raced at the thought. How curious...

* * *

In the early afternoon, they arrived at the immense tree that contained the Frontier Village. Its thick branches stuck out in all directions and leafy, mossy tangles hung from them like the heavy curtains found in Alcamoth's royal bedrooms. The thought nearly made her shoulders slouch. She missed home, yet she feared how she would be received upon her return. Surely, the High Entia would despise her for what her shortcomings had done.

The group strode up the path and encountered a gathering of Nopon. They shouted out their questions, their surprise at seeing 'Hom Hom' in this part of the Bionis. Melia might have smiled if she was not so encumbered by the dreadful events of that morning. But she was - that certainly was the truth of it - and she found that her patience had worn thin.

She pushed her way to the front of the group, announced that she would very much like to meet with the Chief at his earliest convenience. Once they recognized her as the Princess of the High Entia, the conference with Chief Dunga occurred much sooner than she thought it should have. Not that she was complaining. It would be a blessing if she could part ways with the Homs quickly.

"Melia, my dear," Chief Dunga said as he approached her, his arms spread wide in welcome. "My heart is filled with joy at this reunion. But let us talk elsewhere. It's too open here."

"Yes, of course," she said, following him inside of the tree. She stopped as soon as he did, just in front of the Sacred Altar, then waited for him to begin speaking. Her four companions gathered around her and she felt the urge to look over her shoulder to be sure no harm would befall her while she had her back turned.

The Nopon Chief took a moment to observe her. Then, seemingly satisfied, he nodded to himself. "You look well."

 _I suppose it is natural for me to appear better than I feel..._ Melia thought, forcing a smile. "As do you, Chief Dunga. Thank you for being so kind as to have an audience with me." She gestured back to the Homs. "My companions seek passage through the Eryth Sea. It was my promise to them. I would be humbled if you should allow me to honor it."

"There is no problem with your request, Melia," he said. "But what of you?"

"I..." She had sounded so confident when she began, but she allowed herself to trail off. Truthfully, she did not know what she planned to do next. "I had failed to think that far ahead. Although, I believe there is something here that still requires my attention..."

Without giving him the courteous farewell that he deserved, she strode off to the balcony on that floor. She needed time alone, time to deliberate her options. And right then seemed to be the only moment she would get to herself before she was forced to decide. Her body pressed against the Nopon-made railing as she leaned out into the breeze. It carried with it the scent of torch smoke and tree sap. A miniscule smile played at her lips for she finally felt at ease. On her own, enjoying the scents and sounds of Makna Forest.

But somewhere in those dense trees there hid a beast as frightening as the worst of night-terrors. A beast that her father required to be exterminated. It disturbed the peace of this place that she had surreptitiously loved for years. The Telethia had murdered her friends and would surely continue its destructive path. How many more people were to be felled by its fangs before she would admit to herself that she could not return home until it was dead?

The sound of footsteps reached her ears and she whirled around to face the newcomer, hand resting on her staff. She recognized Shulk, allowed her arm to drop back to her side. He smiled disarmingly as he approached.

"You don't have to go off on your own," he said, halting his advance an appropriate distance away from her. "You're welcome to stay with us. We'd love to have you."

She considered his words. They made her feel strange, experience emotions she had scarcely ever felt before. For a moment, she almost accepted his invitation. But she found herself shaking her head.

"I cannot join you," she told him, her voice resolute. "There is unfinished business here..."

"The Telethia."

Melia's eyes widened. "How did you know about that?"

For the next few minutes, Shulk explained to her what had happened after the group had stumbled upon her in the forest. Every piece she had missed while in her state of unconsciousness. The ether crystals, the fight with two Telethia offspring. As the story wore on, she thought about what it all meant, wondered if their meeting truly was an act of fate.

The other three approached them, entered the conversation in the hopes that they could convince Melia to accept their aid in fighting the Telethia. It was for both pride and concern that she did not immediately agree. Four men were already dead due to what she considered to be her own incompetence. There would be no more - that was her solemn vow. Indeed, that was a significant reason for her reluctance and yet, she knew that it was not the only one. Perhaps she worried what her father would think when he learned that _her_ quest had been completed by _them._

Would he scorn her?

In the end, it was Chief Dunga who persuaded her to allow the Homs to provide their assistance. He had a way of speaking, plain and outright. A voice that could hold only the truth in its unique tones.

* * *

The group prepared to depart on their quest and had nearly finished when the Chief decided to introduce them to the Heropon. Before that point, Melia had not been aware that Nopon could fall from the sky. But here this one was, dropping in on them from above, bouncing on their heads until they hit him away to the next person. He hopped to his feet once he made it to the ground and, as all the onlooking Nopon shouted and threw mushrooms at him, he introduced himself as Riki.

They set out soon after that situation calmed down, making their way back along the winding paths of Makna Forest. They sought a large ether deposit for that would make an ideal place for the Telethia to rest after it had sustained its injuries from Melia. Riki led the way; he knew the forest better than anyone. Which he reminded them of on many occasions during their fairly short journey.

"Riki know forest like back of hand!" Riki boasted. "Debtors never find Riki here. One time-"

"Oi, furball," Reyn said as he trudged along behind the Heropon. "You've told us that story six times now. Give it a rest, would ya?"

"Reyn is liar," the Nopon said, bouncing along the trail backwards so he could make a disapproving face at the red-haired warrior. Then he turned around. "Riki have many, many stories with debtors. Riki's littlepon always eat lots. Never leave monies for poor Riki. Maybe Reyn give Riki monies. Then Riki happy!"

He huffed a bit in response before mumbling, "I ain't giving you anything, freeloading..." The rest was lost as his voice got lower.

"Quit your whining, Reyn," Sharla said, lightly punching his arm. He seemed to pout at her, as if he thought such an expression could obtain her favor. Instead, it awarded him another punch - this one harder than the last.

"Sharla!" he protested.

"She's right, Reyn," Dunban said from the back of the group. Melia turned to look at him, curious. "We musn't distract ourselves when we are so close to a dangerous foe."

His words almost made the High Entia girl smile triumphantly. Upon their first meeting, he had been mysterious, something foreign, unknown. But she closed in on him as he made such a remark. The reasonable type, wise and mentor-like. Without a doubt, he kept the group from pulling itself apart. Yet, back in the village, it had seemed that Shulk made the important decisions. She could not prevent herself from wondering who the true leader was.

As they neared the ether deposit, however, that thought became a foggy memory as dread usurped its place in her mind. She could almost feel the Telethia closing in, its heavy wings throwing powerful gales upon her body until it was difficult to stand. Her eyes darted skyward, searching intently, finding nothing. No beast poised to descend on her. Not at that moment, anyway.

"Melia, are you alright?" Dunban asked as he appeared beside her without warning.

"Yes," she said, nodding as if to convince herself that she was speaking the truth. "I am simply...eager for this fight to begin."

"I imagine you would be."

His words were not meant to sound malicious or in any way unkind - and indeed, his voice was gentle when he spoke them - but Melia instantly felt her heart drop into her stomach. Her body reacted as if the man had threatened her. Heart racing, instinct fighting to take over. Attack him or run. Something screamed within her, sirens blaring: _He knows!_

She swallowed hard, forced down those thoughts. Silently, she assured herself that Dunban was unaware of her shortcomings. And, finally feeling persuaded, she sensed a slow progression towards the end of her intense stress reaction.

"I am certain that I am not the only one to have this thought," she said at last, no trace of her internal panic seeping into her tone.

Dunban merely smiled then moved to the front of the group, leaving Melia to stare after him, utterly mystified. Perhaps she would need more time to figure him out. But, for the moment, she knew she could not occupy herself with such trivial pursuits. There was a battle looming in the near future. And, this time, she would be ready for it.


	3. Chapter 3

Sorean paced the elegantly tiled ground in front of his throne. The guards nearest to him kept their eyes averted out of respect while the ones farther away risked quick glances toward the Emperor, their curiosity getting the better of them. If the monarch had noticed their gazes upon him, he made no show of it. He merely continued his pacing, impatient, growing increasingly frustrated.

With a huff, he paused his movements and turned on the man closest to him. "Where is he? I summoned him over three hours ago, did I not?"

The guard glanced around, surely praying that the Emperor was not talking to him. But there were no others nearby. He swallowed hard then answered, "Y-you did, Your Majesty..." The voice sounded weak, cowardly, and Sorean could not keep the scowl from invading his wizened features.

He whirled back around, began his pacing anew, but found himself standing still after a short time. This was not the proper manner in which a ruler was to behave. Taking a deep breath, he returned to his throne and sat down, reminded himself to be patient. Kallian could very well be delayed for acceptable reasons, after all. His son's schedule was often filled by his work with the Ministries. Perhaps there had been an issue that required the young man's attention.

Yet he could not help the feeling of unease that rose within him. Kallian would have sent someone in his stead, to inform the Emperor of his inability to attend a meeting - had he been able to. But the guard he had sent to fetch his son had not returned either. Sorean breathed in deeply, seeking a calmer state, reining in his wayward thoughts. Surely, no misfortune had fallen upon the Prince. His son's personal guard would have told him if there had been an accident. So he forced himself to relax back into his throne, release the tension in his hands.

Scarcely a heartbeat later and his son seemed to appear before him as if by magic. Relief flooded through his veins and he allowed himself a small smile, one that did not quite reach his eyes. Then he stood up, slow, formidable. His gaze fell upon the guards that accompanied Kallian - the man he had sent and one whose name he could not quite recall. They both wore grim expressions upon their pallid faces. However, the Prince's personal guard seemed worse off for his hair and clothes were drenched - sweat, perhaps.

"Where have you been?" he asked, eyes shifting over to his son.

"V-Valak Mountain... Father..." Kallian replied. He dropped to his knees, braced his hands against the floor as his arms began to tremble. The two guards exchanged glances, a strange emotion fluttering from the man on the left to the one on the Prince's other side, infecting him. Disease-like. Then it vanished and they assumed positions identical to that of their Prince.

A deep disapproval tugged the corners of Sorean's mouth downward. "That is a long journey to take in so few hours," he said, stepping closer to the three men kneeling before him. "You must be exhausted, my son." His hand moved to rest on Kallian's shoulder, but he pulled back as he noticed the little beads of water that dripped from his son's silver hair.

"He is, Your Majesty," one of the guards said hurriedly, drawing the Emperor's attention. "Please allow him some rest before asking for his council."

"I am fine," Kallian growled as he forced himself to his feet. Unsteady, swaying as though he might easily be felled by a breath of wind. His personal guard rose shortly after him, took hold of his arm. Once stabilized, he shoved the man away. "Do not touch me."

The Emperor's frown lessened, yet rage boiled in his eyes. His son's behavior - so shockingly uncharacteristic of the man - clearly indicated that he had been drinking heavily. It offended him, rather than causing him concern. Here he had been, pacing the throne room and surely making a fool of himself, for the thought that Kallian had been in peril. A phantom trouble that had wormed its way into Sorean's head, fixing in his mind stark images of a murdered son. And all the while, the subject of these gruesome imaginations had been abandoning his duties in favor of alcohol.

He clenched his teeth, holding back the sharp words that balanced precariously upon his tongue. Stored them away for another time, when his son was in the right state of mind to hear and remember them. So he ordered the guards to deliver Kallian to the dungeon, let him regain his senses in a cell that contained only the most austere of comforts. Such a demand attracted all pairs of eyes within earshot. The two guards shared another infuriating glance then obeyed, dragging the Prince backwards down the glass stairs.

When the last echoes of Kallian's curses died out, one of the remaining guards coughed lightly. The Emperor spun around, glared at the man until he remembered that this was not the High Entia he meant to be angry with.

"My apologies," he said as he found his self-control. "His Highness's drunkenness has caused unnecessary tensions for us all."

"I-if I may, You Majesty..." the guard stuttered, eyes set resolutely on the tiles at Sorean's feet. "I do not believe that Prince Kallian was inebriated... He appeared... Well, he looked and acted exactly as my cousin did - blue tinted lips, slurring his words, clumsiness. Just like Emris. Right before he died..."

The words sent dreadful shivers running down Sorean's spine and the unpleasantness collected in his stomach. Certainly, the reaction confused him. Death was not unusual, nor was it unwelcome. Having lived so long, known so many, he was well-acquainted with it. Perhaps they were friends now, as he had stared his own demise in the face for the last month. Shaking his head to clear it, he turned his full attention to the guard.

"What happened to your cousin?"

The man seemed surprised, but he replied immediately. "He got it into his head that there was a rare fish living in one of the lakes near Valak Mountain. Thought he could only get to it in the wintertime. So he walked out on the ice with his fishing pole. But it cracked and he fell into the water. We got him out fairly quickly, but... He never returned to Alcamoth." He shrugged, more to himself than anyone else.

"Ice blight. I see..." Sorean pondered the idea briefly, but found himself unable to consider it a valid option. The illness was not unknown to him, though it certainly was not a common occurrence in Alcamoth. And none of the cases he had been informed of had originated from incidents at Valak Mountain. "Makna Forest would have warmed him sufficiently."

"Yes," the man agreed, "it would have."

* * *

When the small group approached the ether deposit, the world faded from vibrant colors to the grey hues of decay. The only pigment in sight was found in the cascade of crimson ether crystals on the cliff face to their right. Melia bit down on her lower lip, feeling the familiar sensation of unease creep into her stomach as she stepped closer to the dead grass. Such destruction... She wondered how she could ever manage to defeat an enemy that possessed the power to steal the very life from an environment.

Riki uttered a cry, feeble and childlike, at the sight of his homeland so defiled. This was not how his forest was meant to appear. He turned about helplessly, as if he sought an answer from his companions, though they were as dumbfounded as he was.

"This... This is the might of the Telethia," Melia said. Her eyes stared straight ahead, unable to properly focus on her surroundings.

"The Telethia did this?" Dunban asked, not quite convinced. The High Entia princess opened her mouth to rebut his ignorance, but he interrupted her before she could verbalize it. "We must be more cautious, then. Any mistake could be our last."

Something deep within Melia's emotional dungeon rattled the bars of its confinement, freeing itself long enough to induce nausea. Dunban's final words had shaken her. Would this quest be the end of them? Would her shortcomings result in more squandered life? No. She could not allow that.

"I do not require you to-"

"Melia, we'll be alright. We have the Monado," Shulk said. His fingers twitched at his side, perhaps giving away his desire to rest that hand upon her shoulder in reassurance. But certainly, he recalled the last time he attempted physical contact and so, he stilled his fingers. "You don't have to worry about us. I promise."

Security. It felt like a thousand years since she had experienced such a thing. Of course, it had really only been a few hours - a time when four men still lived. Yet, she missed the feeling. That comfort as she strolled into unparalleled danger... It was the cause of her sudden lacking in friendship. And once more, she longed for it. Perhaps the desire was beyond her control, though she tried to force it down regardless. Selfishness did not befit a princess. She would strive to be better.

As they wandered into the crumbling grass, she wondered if Shulk put too much faith in his sword. The Homs was confident - not unusual for one so young - but that was precisely the danger. Confidence bred carelessness, after all. Though, perhaps he had good reason to believe in his weapon. Perhaps it had not yet let him down. And, hopefully, it never would.

Over Shulk's shoulder, she could see Dunban. He paused, nearly causing the blond Homs to bump into him, and glanced around until his eyes finally rested on the clouded sky.

Melia frowned, followed his gaze. But she found nothing to result in such a show of concern. "Dunban, what is-"

A deafening roar drowned out the remainder of her question and she turned teal her eyes back to the patch of sky that her companion had been watching. The sheet of clouds tore open, flooding the forest with rays of sunlight. From the gash, there emerged an inky blot, which grew larger as it drew closer, took up a dreadfully familiar shape. It swooped low and the group crouched to avoid its grasping claws.

Melia drew her staff, digging its end into the ground for aid in standing against the gales of Telethia wings. Already, her heart pounded, her palms sweating and mind in disarray. The monster landed just ahead of her and she could once more feel the humidity of its breath on her face, taunting, rancid. It required all of her will to keep herself from being sick on the battlefield. With what remained, she looked up into its eyes. Chunks of coal that shone with anticipation for a massacre.

But she saw something else within the depths of its sloe black irises. She could not say what that was - perhaps some glimpse of the lives it had claimed - though she doubted that she would ever need to describe an image in a monster's eye. It could very well have been a creation of her panicked mind. There was no one she trusted to listen anyway, to understand how a phantasm could fill her veins with rage and send her barreling toward the enemy.

She drew upon all the elements at her disposal, brandishing her staff without hesitation. Somewhere, she knew her companions were attacking, but no evidence reached her senses. In that moment, nothing could pierce her focus. Her and the Telethia. They were all that existed in her mind. No room for distraction.

A small part of her protested, hoping to force her attention back to Shulk and the others. Shulk... She trusted him. At least, she thought she did. He seemed to be a decent man and she was reluctant to admit that she rather liked him. Certainly, he deserved the loyalty of his friends. Perhaps she would be allowed to become one of them. Perhaps she could be more than that...

The Telethia turned on her, one of its heads snapping at her legs while the other two aimed at something she could not see. Its teeth grazed her skin but she felt nothing through the haze of adrenaline. She rolled to the left, narrowly avoiding the clawed paw that struck the earth where she had been standing. It would not kill her that easily. And if it presumed to do so, she was determined to inform it exactly how useless its efforts were.

Fire sparked from the tip of her staff then flew toward the beast. The embers latched onto the Telethia's side, exploding upon contact, burning a patch of its skin red. It shrieked in pain, whipped all three of its heads around to glower at her. And as she stared back, trying to look into six eyes at the same time, she knew she was about to die.

"Melia!"

It did not matter to her. If this was to be her final sight. If that voice had belonged to Shulk. The empire she would leave behind. None of that was important anymore. She lowered her staff, resigned.

Dunban appeared atop one of the creature's heads, repeatedly slashing at its antenna until the whip-like length was severed. The Telethia roared and flung itself into the air. Melia forgotten, it struggled to remove the Homs man from its body. She scrambled backward into the protection of her group of companions, watched Dunban search unsuccessfully for a handhold on the flailing monster's back.

He was thrown off, unbalanced by the Telethia's violent movements. Without even a shout of fear, he fell through the open air. It seemed his efforts were too concentrated on getting his feet underneath him to allow for any expression.

"Wind!" Melia shouted, pointing her staff at Dunban.

The resulting gust caught him, slowed his descent just enough to prevent severe injury. Silently, the High Entia princess breathed a sigh of relief. Then her attention returned to the Telethia. In a blurr of ether, it regenerated its amputated antenna. Her heart stopped beating for several moments. How could they be expected to defeat a beast capable of healing damage faster than they could deal it? It was impossible...

"Shulk, we cannot kill it," she said, stepping forward to stand beside him. "Such a task is beyond our ability. Let us abandon the quest before we lose anyone else. Revenge is not worth this..."

"No," he replied, turning his head to look at her. "We can't give up. Just mourning isn't good enough." He paused a moment before continuing his speech.

She had never seen eyes as intense as his back in Alcamoth. The blond Homs spoke as if he had experienced the same sense of loss that, at present, threatened to make Melia's emotions boil over. Like he had lost someone close to him, long before she had met him. It encouraged her, made her feel that perhaps there was at least one person on the Bionis that could understand her inner turmoil. Then the conversation returned to the battle at hand.

"I have an idea," Shulk said, eyes alight - but in a different way than before. Not with the fire of vengeance, this time. Something less fierce and more enthusiastic. Passion, perhaps. The will to see through their quest to its full completion. A joy at being able to find the solution.

Once more, she sprinted into battle, prepared to kill the Telethia that had murdered her friends. She desired home, her family, but she pushed those thoughts to the back of her mind. They still registered in her thoughts. Yet, they were not distractions. These things she wished for now motivated her, made her focus entirely on the fight.

Riki trotted several feet ahead of the rest of the group. Truly, his eagerness had gotten the better of him for he could be heard shouting that he was going to take down the 'Dinobeast' single-handedly because he was the Heropon. Until the Telethia tail whipped him, sending him skidding across the ground. His body came to a stop and he was still.

The group rushed forward, engaging the monster in battle yet again. Melia hung back with Sharla and concentrated her efforts on summoning as many elements as she could. Fire, ice, wind, earth, lightning. The ether built up within her. She felt its warmth flood her body, saw its light envelop her in a glowing aura. In front of her, Shulk wielded the Monado in a way that she had never seen. Green tendrils of electricity raced out of the sword, wrapping themselves around the Telethia and restricting its movement.

"Melia, now!"

At the sound of Shulk's voice, she released all of her pent-up energy. It directed itself towards the enemy, flowed out of her without restraint. The ether was beyond her control. She merely served as its conduit, a means to its desired end. Although she had little control, the magic took a heavy toll on her. She felt some piece of herself ripping open. It was a tiny part, hidden deep. But the pain it wrought seared intensely.

For a moment, she feared the worst - that the ether would tear her body into bloody ribbons. But then, she heard the Telethia scream, saw a blinding flash of light. Whichever elements remained vanished once they no longer had a target. The ether cut off, leaving her feeling empty, used, exhausted. She planted her staff into the ground and leaned on it for support.

"Garan, Damil, Hogard, Aizel..." she whispered as her heartbeat slowed to a normal rate. "We have killed it. You may rest peacefully now..."

* * *

The group stayed the night at Frontier Village, unable to sleep well due to the celebration that raged until early the next morning. Heropon Riki had fulfilled his duties, saving the Nopon as well as the forest. With his friends. That last bit was more of an afterthought, though no one minded too terribly. The Homs and High Entia simply wished to find sleep. They did not require recognition for their deed, only the embrace of deep rest.

At the dawning of the new day, the six left for Eryth Sea. They ate a quick breakfast, bid farewell to the Nopon, thanked Chief Dunga for his kindness. Then they were gone, sent teleporting upwards toward their final destination.

Melia led her newfound friends across the Hovering Reefs. They had only reached the second of the floating islands when they stopped to rest. The High Entia's leg was in bad condition after the Telethia had raked its teeth across her shin. With a huff of annoyance, she sat down, allowing Sharla to clean and redress the wound.

"All finished," the healer said, smiling at the bandaging before shifting her gaze to Melia's face. "Now, take it easy, okay? There's no need for you to aggravate your injury. We're not rushing to get to the capital, you know."

"I am aware," she replied. "But I will only let us delay for a few minutes..."

Sharla's grin widened, though she said nothing. With a nod, she left the princess alone, joining Riki by a patch of pale blue flowers.

Once on her own, Melia cast her longing gaze upward to her city. The anti-Mechon drones glided through the air and, within the glass dome, she could see the alabaster spires of the Imperial Palace. They glimmered in the early morning light, their radiance tender, welcoming. Then she allowed her eyes to fall to the turquoise sea below the Hovering Reefs. The water would be cold for another month, at least, yet she desperately wished to go for a swim amongst the gentle waves. Perhaps it would have calmed her nerves.

"May I join you?" Dunban's words broke into her thoughts before her ceaseless worrying could truly begin. He waited until she nodded then sat down in the grass beside her. Briefly, they admired the view in silence. But it was soon spoiled when he spoke again. "I wanted to say thank you."

"For what?" she asked, turning her head to look at him.

"You summoned wind to break my fall," he said, eyes set on something beyond his vision. "I might've died if you hadn't."

"Perhaps," she said. Her head returned to its original position and she found herself gazing up at Alcamoth once more. "Or perhaps not. Who can be certain of what would have occurred if I had not intervened?" She sighed as her mind wandered into thoughts of her murdered friends. "I suppose we must simply be relieved that all of us survived..."

The Homs did not reply immediately. He glanced at her, frowning as though he knew what she was thinking about. Yet he made no mention of it and opted for a change of subject instead. "Are you ready to move on? I must admit that I'm eager to see the capital from the inside."

Melia stood, watched Dunban do the same. She nodded to him slowly then called the others together. When they resumed their journey, she walked with a slight limp, but she cared very little. After all she had experienced in the last twenty-four hours... Finally, she was going home.


	4. Chapter 4

The pale turquoise light of the transporter flared as several men rushed out of it. They were clad in the armor of imperial soldiers, silvery white chest plates emblazoned with the royal insignia and matching helmets that concealed their faces. Melia felt her companions tense at the sight of the knights, but she did not turn to reassure them.

"Welcome home, Lady Melia," one of the soldiers said, stepping forward and bowing his head. "We are relieved to see you unharmed. Please allow us to escort you to the Audience Chamber." He raised his head and craned his neck slightly to view the Homs and Nopon that stood just behind Melia. "Who are they, Your Highness?"

"Be at ease, Captain Ivar," she replied. "These people are my guests. Would your men be so kind as to make arrangements for them? I would ask Catlaina to do so, but I really must be on my way. His Majesty surely wishes to see me immediately."

"Yes, of course." He glanced back towards his men, but found them already scrambling to obey Melia's orders. Once all of them had disappeared back into the city, the captain addressed the Princess again. "If it pleases Your Highness, I would very much like to accompany you as you deliver the quest report to His Majesty."

Melia smiled gently, but shook her head. "I ask that you remain with my companions. They require a guide as this is their first time in Alcamoth." Her gaze shifted to Shulk. "Perhaps I shall join you later on."

Without waiting for a response, she stepped onto the transporter. In a flash of light, she entered the city. She could not keep the smile from her lips as she walked forward through the tunnel. Her heart pounded in her chest at the thought of being home once more. It felt as though it had been centuries since she had set foot in Alcamoth. Now that she thought of it, it seemed strange that she could miss someplace so much when she had only been away from it for a short time - just over a day, in this case. And even stranger since she had left on longer journeys in the past. Perhaps that nagging sense of loss and loneliness deep within her was to blame.

Yes, that must have been the reason for her apparent homesickness, for the only difference between her current quest and ones of the past was... Well, she refused to think on it any further. Her friends had been avenged and put to rest when the Leone Telethia had been killed. She no longer needed to think about them because every moment she spent mourning was a moment in which her fallen friends were roused from their sleep and forced to look down on her, see the mess they left behind.

She shook her head in an attempt to clear it then stepped out into the sunshine at the end of the tunnel. In those seconds that she paused, breathed in Alcamoth air, looked upon Alcamoth sights, she felt better. And for the first time in a while, she found that she could truly focus on the present. She did not feel the dragging weight of the past's chains.

Everyone seemed so happy, voices singing and laughing. Even the arguments - few that there were - sounded joyful. The fountains bubbled, the streetcars hummed. With a sigh of contentment, she rejoined her people.

But she knew she could not stray into conversations or even take a chance on a short stroll through the gardens she loved so much. Her father was expecting her, after all, and the Emperor was not known for his overabundance of patience. So she convinced herself to hop onto the ramp that pulled her up towards the Imperial Palace. Immediately after she disembarked, she heard a feminine voice calling for her.

Despite her best efforts, she could not ignore it. She forced down her annoyance and turned around. A short High Entia woman sprinted over to her, panting heavily as she came to a stop in front of the Princess. Melia recognized her as Shalen the Lighthouse manager and frowned deeply. What was she doing in the city?

"Y-Your Highness!" she managed to gasp, curtseying hurriedly. "Word only just got back to me. F-from my assistants. I-I... I had to..."

"Shalen, please rest a moment," Melia said as she led the exhausted woman to a bench near one of the fountains. "We may discuss this issue when you have regained your breath."

The woman nodded and sat down, consciously trying to slow her breathing. She wiped the sweat from her brow, sighed shakily. When she turned her head, Melia could see tears in her eyes, not yet ready to fall but waiting to be provoked.

"Shalen... What is wrong?"

"It's all my fault," she said as the effects of physical exertion subsided. "I should have known something wasn't right. He was acting so oddly when he came by yesterday, asking for a report."

The High Entia Princess found that her frown had deepened. She sat down next to the distraught Lighthouse manager, turned to face her properly. Keeping her voice a soothing murmur, she asked, "Who are you talking about?"

"Prince Kallian," Shalen said. She covered her face with her hands as if trying to hide from something. "The report isn't usually gathered so early in the week. But I didn't really think about it until later. When the thought occurred to me, I went to the Ether Plant because the reports are always taken at the same time. And I asked Jarack, but he said His Highness hadn't visited. Then, a few hours later, my assistants saw him and..."

Shalen cut off abruptly, her slumped shoulders beginning to shake as sobs tore through her body. Uncertain, Melia patted the woman's back. This had never happened to her before and, if she was being honest, the whole ordeal made her uncomfortable. She did not like having to reassure a person in distress nor did she like what she thought the Lighthouse manager was trying to say about Kallian.

"There, there," she said, though she expected that words would be ineffective in calming the woman. "It is not your fault. You had no way of knowing that there was something wrong."

"Thank you, Your Highness..." Shalen said when she had calmed down.

The conversation ended there as Melia was eager to meet with her father. Then after that... Well she assumed she would need to have a word with her brother. Truthfully, the Lighthouse manager's half-told story disturbed her. Kallian had mentioned that he intended to go to Valak Mountain - a journey that potentially took days in good weather and a week or more when forced to fight the winter storms. And if Shalen was to be believed, that meant the Prince had lied.

In spite of the questions frothing beneath her skin, she appeared outwardly calm, friendly even. She greeted all the guards by name and shared a brief laugh with one of the maids that had stepped off the transporter to the Audience Chamber. Then, she took the girl's place on the faintly glowing platform, teleported upward to meet with the Emperor.

When she entered the throne room, she found both her father and brother, embroiled in an argument of sorts - seemingly one-sided since Kallian was silent and kneeling as Sorean lectured him. She coughed lightly to alert them to her presence then strode forward to deliver her report. Kallian struggled to his feet, took his place beside their father who, in turn, put an end to the words of anger.

As she recounted the gruesome details of her quest, she could not prevent her gaze from straying to her brother. He appeared paler than usual, eyes unfocused and lips tainted by a scarcely noticeable blue hue. Sometimes, he looked around the room as though confused by an unvoiced thought in his head. She wondered if it was a piece of her story that made him seem so lost in a place that he surely knew better than her.

She concluded her retelling of the quest then allowed herself to fall silent. The Emperor spoke quietly, pride evident in his tone. He spoke of the men that had died, but she tried not to listen to him. It would not help her to be constantly reminded of them. Then one of his words struck her. Debt.

"Father, there is another debt to be discussed," she said, breaking into the conversation when Sorean paused. "Five others aided me in my quest and I promised them passage to Prison Island."

"The Homs and Nopon that entered the city with Captain Ivar have been imprisoned," her father stated, worry deepening the creases in his face. "They were in possession of a dangerous weapon. I will not allow them to enter Prison Island until the divine seer has assured me that they are trustworthy."

"But..." She bowed her head. "Yes, Father..."

Sorean nodded to himself, cast a glance at Kallian, then exited the throne room. Melia felt the soft breeze caused by his passing, but did not dare look up. Shame painted her cheeks red and unshed tears stung her eyes due to the effort it took to hold them back. She did not have the right to question her father's judgement, to disrespect him in front of the Prince. And with only one word, she could have sealed her fate.

A hand grasped her shoulder, pressing down too heavily to be a gesture of reassurance. She lifted her head slowly, met Kallian's gaze.

"Do not let him upset you, dear sister," he said, eyes still hazy with confusion. In the back of her mind, Melia noted that as strange for her brother sounded too lucid to be as dazed as he appeared. "I believe he has been behaving like this since you departed for Makna Forest."

"Thank you," she said. She felt him pull back and reached to grab his hand, prevent him from leaving too soon. The skin was frozen as though he had recently bathed it in icy water. Her own fingers flinched away, eager to end the unpleasant contact. "Brother... You are so cold... What happened?"

Kallian did not reply, simply stared at her without expression. In the silence as she waited to hear his voice, she allowed her eyes to thoroughly examine him. Faintly blue tinted lips, those tiny shivers that tore through him on occasion, the pallid skin, the unfamiliar look in his eyes. She could wait no longer for a willing explanation.

"Shalen told me you visited the Lighthouse yesterday, seeking a report," she said, folding her arms over her chest. "Which is unusual for two reasons. Firstly, such updates are not collected for another three days. And secondly, you informed me earlier that morning that you were preparing to set out for Valak Mountain."

"I... Melia, please, let us have this conversation elsewhere," he replied as he turned his eyes to the floor. "This is not a topic to be discussed in the presence of others."

She felt the bottom of her stomach drop out, but she nodded in spite of her sudden unease. Of course, she had not expected any different. From the moment she had heard Shalen's story, she had known that her brother had done something that the royal family would not be proud of. Whatever that was, she was determined to hear him out before setting her final opinion of him. She loved him, after all, and could not seem to free herself from the decade old habit of forgiving all of his wrongs, putting him on a pedestal.

The siblings made their way out of the Audience Chamber. They walked slowly, Melia still suffering a limp and Kallian seeming as though he might topple over at any moment. The guards eyed them as they passed, surely concerned. But none of the men took the risk of asking the High Entia royalty to stop.

After what might have been hours of shambling through the palace, they arrived at Kallian's suite of rooms in the Imperial Villa. The Prince collapsed into an armchair by the fireplace, gestured - when his strength returned - for Melia to take whichever seat she chose.

Obligingly, she lowered herself into the chair across from him. A servant scuttled out of a darkened doorway, draping a thick blanket over Kallian's shoulders then lighting the fireplace. She waited until the maid disappeared before beginning the interrogation. The fire threw its heat upon her and she felt sweat gather at her brow. She swept a hand across her forehead deliberately, opened her mouth to comment on how peculiar it was that her brother was not bothered by the ever-rising temperature. But then her rational side reminded her that she was not in the Prince's chambers for a casual visit.

"Tell me what happened after we parted ways yesterday morning," she said.

He sighed heavily, turning his head so that he could look into the flames that danced behind the glass pane. "I told my personal guard, Kennet, that Father asked me to collect the reports early this week. When he attempted to follow, I ordered him to stay behind. He did so very grudgingly." The Prince tried to laugh, but failed as the feeble noise did little to lighten his sister's mood.

"Do not stop there," she said, edging away from the fire, hoping to escape the blazing heat. Against her will, a note of bitterness slipped into her voice with her next words. "I am so eager to learn what it is that you lied to me for."

"I went to Eryth Sea," he continued. "There, I obtained a report on the state of the Lighthouse from Shalen then moved on. As I believe you know, I did not visit with Jarack at the Ether Plant. I..."

He glanced in Melia's direction, caught her watching him intently. Barely a breath passed through his lungs before he looked away again, unable to maintain the eye contact. She wondered why he acted so guilty, but she ignored all her mind's answers. None of them were favorable options.

"Where did you go instead?" she asked, keeping her tone soft and motherly in an attempt to make him feel more inclined to talk. She was so close to the answer...

"Hovering Reef 9," he whispered. His voice sounded strangled and when she truly looked at him, she could see firelight glinting off of the tear tracks on the cheek that was facing her. "I went to Hovering Reef 9... And I jumped off... I wanted to drown. But the current was too kind to me... It delivered me safely to the Centre Gate where Kennet was waiting..."

In an instant, Melia felt nauseous. Her heart and mind raced each other, as if intending to determine which of the two could go faster. She pressed down on the swirling mass of her emotions, but it would not be quelled. Instead, it rose up, threatening to consume her entire being. There were no rational thoughts in her head. They all abandoned her when she had learned of Kallian's failed suicide.

"I do not understand..." she managed to say. Then, in a series of waves, clarity returned to her mind and she could once more think properly. Her brother had thrown himself off of a hovering reef then had spent an unknown amount of time - most likely hours - floating about in water that had not yet been warmed for the season. Those symptoms... She leapt to her feet at the realization. "Brother, I think you are suffering from ice blight. I will fetch a healer."

His protests reached her ears, yet she pretended she could not hear them. Paying no mind to her wounded leg, she ran towards the nearest apothecary.

* * *

Kallian rested in his bed, swaddled in several fleecy blankets. The medicine given to him by the healer seemed to be working, for he already felt much warmer. And his mind was beginning to free itself from the haze of confusion. Despite his guilt, he tried to think positively, counting out the things he had to be thankful for. A sister that loved and cared for him. Parents. Many good, trustworthy friends. His work with the Ministries.

The door to his bed chamber opened. Perhaps he would have flinched, reached for the dagger on his bedside table, if he had not predicted the identity of his visitor long before their arrival. He sat up slowly and stared at the shadow lingering in his doorway.

"How are you?"

"I almost died," he said, pulling his blankets tighter around him as he caught a bit of a chill from some indiscernible direction. "And Melia is suspicious..."

"What, pray tell, did you say to her?"

He shrugged slightly and lay back down. Carefully, he turned onto his side, placing his back to the door and his unwanted guest. Even though he attempted to ignore it, he still felt the presence. That malevolent spirit that he wished would leave him be. They had all been happier before its existence.

"You did not tell her the truth, did you?" There was worry in that question, but he could not take pleasure in it. Not with his own apprehension eating away at him.

"No," he said, closing his eyes. "I told her that I had been hoping to end my life."

A pause. Then a laugh, heavy with malice. "Good boy. I am proud of you." He waited for more, but there was utter silence until he heard the door close and the sound of triumphant footsteps retreating down the corridor.

* * *

"Princess Melia." The guard approached her just before she could step onto the transporter that would take her back to the Imperial Villa. "His Majesty has requested your presence in the Audience Chamber. Please allow me to escort you."

She could not help but feel a twang of disappointment at the soldier's words. After learning of her brother's attempted suicide, she wanted nothing more than to be with him. Even though she lacked any skill in comforting those who suffer mentally - or physically, for that matter. It was a foreign environment for her, yet she truly wished to help him somehow.

"Very well," she said, holding back her sigh of annoyance. Her father had spoken with her less than an hour ago and, after that last conversation, she was not overly excited to see him again so soon.

The guard smiled, relief flooding his features. He stood up a little taller then began marching toward the transporter to the throne room. They teleported together, the proud soldier slightly ahead of her as they materialized in the Audience Chamber. At the top of the glass staircase, he bowed to her, then allowed the Princess to proceed on her own. Such a gesture only served to make her nervous. Why would he flee just before the meeting began? Surely, he would want to listen in. Unless her father was angry...

Bracing herself for the worst, she continued walking until she stood in front of the Emperor's throne then she dropped to her knees. A gesture of respect for her father. He deserved it after she had had the gall to protest against his wishes. She glanced up, looked around the ornate room. Sorean stood slightly off to the side of the platform and appeared to be locked in a fervent debate with a woman that Melia did not quite recognize.

When he noticed his daughter kneeling, he ended the discussion. He returned to his throne then addressed the High Entia girl. "Princess Melia, I would like to introduce you to Minister Asdis." He gestured to the woman he had previously been talking to. "She is head of the Ministry of Records."

"A pleasure to officially make your acquaintance, Your Highness," Minister Asdis said, curtseying elegantly. "His Majesty and I were just conversing about some papers my team found regarding the High Entia Tomb. Very interesting discoveries. Anyway, we were worried that perhaps the public would not be pleased with learning that you are their Crown Princess. But the papers I uncovered offered an ideal solution."

"There is such a ritual known as the Trial of the Tomb," the Emperor said. "In ancient times, our ancestors used it as a way to determine if a potential heir was fit to rule. We believe that successfully completing this quest will solidify the people's love and support for you. My dear daughter, will you take on this challenge and prove that you are a worthy successor?"

"I will."

She had known that she could not refuse him. From the very beginning, she was familiarized with the principle that her father was never wrong. She was taught to obey regardless of her personal feelings. Her heart beat faster at the thought of facing unknown danger in the High Entia Tomb, but rejecting the Emperor's idea was not an option.

"Excellent. Minister Asdis, you are dismissed," Sorean said. She replied something about being eager to begin preparations then left as instructed. Melia stood and took a step to follow, but her father stopped her. "I am not finished speaking to you."

"My apologies, Father," she said, returning to her original place. This time, she remained standing. "What more did you wish to discuss?"

The Emperor's eyes seemed distant, as if he was looking through his daughter rather than focusing directly on her. He sighed heavily then rose out of his throne. "Last night, I received a vision in my dreams," he told her, slowly pacing the length of the platform. "I was shown an image of you, my dear, consumed by such terrible sorrow. It broke my heart. And as a result, I have decided that you will take on a consort the moment I can make an arrangement that will suit you."

Melia felt dread pool in her stomach as she stood in stunned silence. She could not quite comprehend what her father had said. It was as if he had addressed her in an entirely different language. But she found herself nodding regardless.

"Very good," he said, clasping his hands together. "Now, I believe it would be beneficial for the Empire if your First Consort were to be a Homs. That one man who aided you in exterminating the Telethia - Dunban - I have heard awe-inspiring rumors about him. He was the hero at the Battle of Sword Valley a year ago. The mightiest Homs on Bionis." Sorean chuckled in spite of himself. "Yes, I think he shall make a fine husband for you, Melia. Do you not agree?"

"I... I agree, Father..."

"Wonderful," he said, ending his restless pacing. He beamed at his daughter, strode down the ramp until he stood beside her. Gently, he rested a hand on her shoulder. "I will start the preparations immediately. Assuming all goes without complication, we will have you wed before the week draws to its close. You must be excited beyond belief, dear one."

"Y-yes... Of course," she mumbled, feeling more nauseous than excited.


	5. Chapter 5

Whitewing was not much of a palace. It possessed none of the customary comfort. Plush beds, elegantly carved bookshelves, stone fireplace - all were absent. It did not even have another room. Just a single chamber with walls made of thick glass and a solitary banquet table at its core. The view of the city could indeed be described as spectacular, though that in itself should not have awarded the room its honorary title.

Dunban looked out over buildings, taking note of their distinctive architecture. They all seemed to be made out of the same silvery white material and he could not keep himself from wondering exactly what it was. Metal? Perhaps stone of some kind. He shrugged, turned his gaze downwards to the streets. From his vantage point, he could study the boxy patterns that contrasted starkly with the tangled mass of pathways back in Colony 9. His home... Briefly, he wondered how the efforts to rebuild were coming along. But the thought was forced from his mind as the flash of the transporter light alerted him to the arrival of a visitor.

"You are Dunban, correct?" a guard asked, marching into Whitewing. "His Majesty, Emperor Sorean Antiqua, has requested your presence in the Audience Chamber. I shall guide you."

"Me?" he replied. "I assumed he would want to see Shulk."

The guard nodded and gestured toward the transporter with the butt of his spear. Stifling another question, the Homs followed the High Entia out of the false palace that had once imprisoned him and his friends. They had been released a while ago and, after rescuing a maintenance worker, accepted Captain Ivar's offer of a tour of Alcamoth. Dunban stayed behind, though, wishing for a moment to himself. Time to take in the city at his own pace.

His escort led him through the grand hall, towards the next transporter. The guard positioned at the left staircase called a greeting across the wide corridor, to which no one responded. Dunban frowned at the expressions exchanged between the three High Entia men - which included the guard at the stairs nearest to them. They did not seem to like each other very much, considering the scowls that he witnessed. Against his better judgement, he asked his guide why.

"Rumors are a very powerful tool," the man said as they approached their next transporter. He smiled at the guard stationed there, leaned in to whisper something to him.

A deep blush crept into his cheeks as Dunban's escort moved away from him. "Y-yes, Lucio. I mean... Yes, sir," he stuttered, quickly looking away, embarrassment taking over his sharp features.

"That was Kaelin," Lucio said once the transporter had dropped them off in the Audience Chamber. "He's the reason that there is little love lost between Galvin and I. Well... A rumor concerning him is the real reason... Lecrough tries to keep the peace, but..." He shook himself slightly, pulling his mind away from that line of thought. "Anyway, we have arrived. Please speak with the Emperor."

Dunban cast a single glance at his guide - one of suspicion - then ascended the glass steps that led up to the throne room. His eyes darted left and right as he approached the Emperor's throne, taking in each detail of the soldiers that lined the path. They all carried spears and swords hung in scabbards at their hips, readily accessible in the event of a close-range battle. As he strode passed them, he noticed their gazes follow him, felt his lungs constrict at the potential danger. His mind raced, seeking some sort of defensive strategy. But there was nothing. He was completely at their mercy.

When he halted his advance an appropriate distance away from the monarch, he knelt down on the tiles. This man might not have been his Emperor, but he intended to show the High Entia as much respect as possible, if only to preserve his own life.

"Legendary hero of the Homs," Sorean mused, standing and walking to the edge of the platform to observe his guest more thoroughly. "Rise. Let me see you properly."

Conscious of every set of eyes on him, Dunban got to his feet. He pushed aside the growing sense of anxiety, focused on the regal High Entia. This was no time to be outwardly nervous. Even if he was plagued with the suspicion that something unpleasant was about to occur. Although, he suspected that he might have the good fortune of being wrong since the guards seemed more relaxed now than they had before.

As he stood fully upright, he felt the Emperor's gaze fall upon him heavily, studying him. He wondered what he had done to warrant such scrutiny, but he did not voice his questions for fear of needlessly angering the monarch. A foolish move for someone in his position.

"Ah, yes," the Emperor said at last, mouth stretching in a wide grin, "you will do quite nicely. I have a request that I must ask of someone, Homs hero, and I determine that you are the only suitable candidate." He noticed the look of bewilderment that took over Dunban's features and allowed himself a good-natured chuckle. "You are, of course, confused. Allow me to explain. My daughter - the woman who guided you here - is in need of a consort and it is my sincere hope that you will become her husband."

Dunban felt his muscles stiffen, his heart drop into his stomach. The Emperor surely did not expect him to accept. Such a proposal was...wrong. Marriage was meant to be based on love and he knew without a doubt that he did not harbor any romantic feelings for Melia. Only friendship existed between them. Then it hit him. Melia was a princess. In hindsight, the revelation made sense. However, in light of Sorean's request, it shocked him even more

"Your Majesty, I must decline," he said as calmly as ever.

The Emperor's expression darkened. "The Princess does not appeal to you? My family is insulted by your refusal. She is the most beautiful woman in Alcamoth, yet you dare suggest that she is not worthy of your affection."

"That is not what I-"

"Then I have no choice but to offer you something in return," he continued, ignoring Dunban's attempt to defend himself. "My daughter informed me of your desire to enter Prison Island." He paused as if he had hoped to make the moment more dramatic. Or perhaps he merely wished to consider his choice of words before verbalizing them. "If you marry Princess Melia, I shall permit you and your companions to travel there."

Prison Island. Shulk's vision told them that they would encounter Metal Face at the top of that tower and remembering that Mechon made Dunban's blood boil anew. The monster that had killed his sister waited for them in a place they could not reach unless they received imperial sanction. Permission that would be freely offered to him if he consented to an arranged marriage. He desired revenge as much as Shulk did, even though he hid the fact from everyone else behind a stoic, rational façade. His sister would not go to the grave without being avenged. That was his solemn vow.

But it was wrong, he reminded himself. He could not take advantage of the High Entia's tradition. Despite this thought, he felt two parts of him going to war with each other. His morals against the need to fulfill his personal promise. They clashed in his mind - a fight to obtain the favor of his thoughts - then moved down to do battle in his heart. And there, amongst the carnage of imagined soldiers, the decision was made.

He sighed softly, looked up to meet Sorean's eyes. Resignation washed over him, rushing in through his mouth and nose, drowning him in the bitterness of an immoral defeat.

"Will you accept my offer?" the Emperor asked.

"I will..."

* * *

Although she had intended to return to Kallian's side, Melia found herself wandering through the palace after learning of her father's plan. She felt lost - abandoned, even - as it became increasingly difficult to recognize the faces of her guards and the destinations that each hallway led her to. Perhaps that would be her existence from then on - a life of aimlessness and confusion. Her life seemed to be out of her control now, yet she doubted she had ever had much say in what she did.

The realization stung worse than it had when she had been a child. And that must have been the main reason that she no longer saw the purpose of carrying on as if nothing had changed. She was a grown woman with no control over her personal affairs. Her father told her what would happen and she was bound by duty to accept it. No matter how much she disapproved. Certainly, the arranged marriage classified as a decision she did not favor. Yet she had no choice. She simply hoped that Dunban could convince the Emperor to put an end to such a demeaning tradition.

It was her small beacon of hope, a pinprick of light in the otherwise blackened sky. Her hope would guide her to the most ideal situation if she allowed it to do so. For the moment, though, she worried and dodged its phantom hand that attempted to pull her towards the light. Instead, she turned away from it and settled for dutiful obedience.

Gentle footsteps lured her from her thoughts as the curiosity became too much for her to contain. She whirled around, found herself face-to-face with Catlaina. The High Entia maid smiled at Melia then bowed her head, her silver bangs falling over her eyes. All other sections of hair had been tied back into an intricate bun, though a few loose strands indicated physical exertion. Perhaps her training had been interrupted so that she could carry out her current task.

"My apologies, Princess," she said, raising her head and sweeping her bangs away from her face. Her right hand fell to the hilt of the dagger in her scabbard, rested there. "I did not mean to intrude, but the Minister of Defense recommends that I stay by your side."

"Minister Caul?" Melia asked. "Why would he make such a suggestion?"

Catlaina looked away as though she were responsible for what she was about to say. "He learned of Prince Kallian's...incident. Now, he is especially concerned about the well-being of the royal family. The personal guards are now forbidden to leave their charge's side." She paused and looked back to Melia, eyes pleading. "Kennet is in horrible trouble for his role in His Highness's...s-suicide attempt..."

"I will speak with someone," she assured, nodding to herself. "Kennet is not to blame for what transpired yesterday and I am certain my brother would feel happier if Defense did not steal away his most devoted friend."

The girl uttered a string of gratitudes, even going as far as to curtsey awkwardly. Melia smothered a laugh as she knew not to offend her guard's honor. A hint of a smile slipped through her defenses, but the rest remained hidden. Perhaps one day, she would find someone with whom she could fully share her emotions. Feeling required to hide such things grew tiresome rather quickly. But right then, that dream seemed unattainable.

When her companion fell silent, Melia noticed a grim expression settle into the guard's face. She did not have to wonder what was troubling her for too long, however.

"Emperor Sorean also wished to see you, Your Highness..."

"That is absurd," she replied, frowning slightly. "It has been scarcely over an hour since our most recent discussion." Then she noticed that look of worry spreading across Catlaina's face. She sighed internally, accepted her fate. "Very well. We should not keep him waiting."

Together, the two High Entia women strode back toward the Ascension Hall. They passed through several long and winding passages before they arrived at the final teleporter, which made Melia wonder how she had traveled so far without knowing where she had been. It must have been shock, for she found she now remembered the guards' names. Galvin and Lecrough at the stairs. Kaelin by the teleporter - who seemed oddly restless, checking his timepiece every few seconds.

She asked him if, by chance, his assigned guard duty conflicted with some personal matter. He told her it did not, though his cheeks flushed bright scarlet. Of course, she had not intended to embarrass or berate him, but she felt that he had mistaken her intensions. A sharp bark of laughter sounded from one of the other guards - most likely Galvin - which inspired within her a sense of unease. She took note of Catlaina giving Kaelin a sympathetic glance, sealing in place her thought that she was intruding in a place where she was not welcome.

So she bid them all a good day and stepped on to the glowing transporter platform. Within seconds, she found herself at the base of the glass stairs, her guard faithfully at her side. They ascended slowly, deliberately, each silently hoping that the awkwardness of their most recent encounter would fade by the time they approached the throne.

As she entered the Audience Chamber, her teal eyes swept around the large space before falling upon the vaguely familiar form of Dunban. Her heart rate increased almost exponentially and dread twisted her stomach until the nausea she had felt earlier returned in full force.

The Emperor stood beside the Homs man, both watching the Princess stride towards them. Impatience sparked in the lighter pair of eyes, while concern glowed in the dark ones. She wondered if they could see the fear within her own irises, but quickly shoved the thought away. A forced smile pushed at the corners of her lips, perhaps assuming that it could fool the onlookers. She very much doubted that, yet let it try anyway.

"Father. Dunban." She bowed her head to each of them then turned her full attention on the Emperor. "Am I correct in my assumption that the arrangements have been finalized?"

"Yes, my daughter," he said, allowing his face to come alight with pride and joy. "You and the Homs hero are to be wed in four days. Tomorrow, you shall face the Tomb. That night, the people will be informed of your engagement. The next two days shall be dedicated to planning the event. In the morning of the fourth day, there will be the wedding ceremony. Then a banquet in the evening, held in the bride's honor - Her Highness, the First Consort shall arrange this for you, of course. And after that... Well."

Melia's heart pounded harder as her mind realized what her father was implying. Though she tried to keep her voice level, a slight stutter betrayed her true feelings. "Y-you mean that Dunban and I will consummate our marriage after the banquet..."

The Emperor nodded, breathing new life into the subject of her recent day-terrors. Since she had been told of his plan to marry her off, she could think of nothing else. She was plagued by daytime nightmares of each little thing that could go wrong. And the wedding night appeared in those visions most frequently. Choking heat and darkness would surround her, press down on her chest until she felt fit to suffocate. Then a hand pulled at the ceremonial wedding garb, ripping it from her body with ease. She could not move to cover herself, could not even breathe. She lay on taunting plushness, naked and paralyzed, her muscles tense as she mentally prepared for the sharp pain that would tear her body in two.

"Are you alright, Princess?" Dunban's voice pulled her out of her nearly tangible thoughts, forced her to turn and face him.

As she stared, she noticed a faint redness to his cheeks. She hoped that meant he was as horrified by the new development as she was. Certainly, she could handle an arranged marriage. Intercourse, however, was another matter entirely. Perhaps he felt the same.

"I am fine, thank you."

"Do not disrespect him," the Emperor chastised, scowling at his daughter. "From this moment on, your engagement is official. Minister Asdis has already assigned this event to its place in Records. Therefore, you are expected to behave as a proper fiancée. Understand me?" He waited for a response of any kind, which eventually came in the form of a nod. "Excellent. Now, you are dismissed - both of you. Spend the remainder of the day together."

"Yes, Father," Melia said, avoiding his eyes. Then she turned around and retreated.

Two sets of footfalls followed in her wake. One light and comforting. The other heavy and unfamiliar. She resisted the urge to look over her shoulder, knowing that she could not allow herself to appear so insecure. Any sign of weakness would be stomped out. There was no other choice, for she feared being utterly defenseless.

The group of three exited the Imperial Palace then stopped. Catlaina hung back, giving the newly engaged couple some space. She wished her guard would stand slightly closer, protect her from the overwhelming dread that consumed her. It felt more urgent now that her father's eyes were not observing her every reaction, but she still managed to push it down. Yet every time she did so, the problem was not erased. Instead, it was stored away until she could handle it appropriately. She merely had to find the strength to tear open her hasty stitches then take the time to properly heal.

That tended to occur at night, in the embrace of darkness. It was easier to hide that way, shield herself from the prying eyes that would inevitably scorn her for her inability to cope. She could only truly care for herself when she was alone and free of judgement. In those moments, she felt safe. She took hours to heal the wounds she had suffered during the day, tenderly bandaging her cracked heart until it nearly seemed whole again.

"Melia, I did not intend to-" Dunban tried to say.

"It is alright," she interrupted, uncertain that her abused emotions could take any more of her friend's excuses or apologies. "Do not feel guilty. Arranged marriages are a part of the royal High Entia tradition. My father simply capitalized on an opportunity - three promising Homs men arriving is his city. I have known this was to be my fate since I was very young." She watched his face for any signs of a lightening mood, found nothing. So she attempted a different tactic: humor. "Truly, I am simply thankful that he did not choose Reyn to be my consort."

A slight smile curved his lips and she felt a surge of relief. He had appreciated what she had tried to accomplish, at least. Perhaps the day was not doomed to misery, after all. She allowed herself a faint smile of her own, but hid it from the Homs man when he glanced in her direction. Unsure why she had reacted that way, she cautiously lowered her hand, revealing her expression to him.

He laughed gently - certainly much softer than she had expected - and grinned wider. Yet he did not say anything. Perhaps he did not need to. Perhaps the moment spoke for itself. In spite of her best efforts to remain focused, her eyes shifted over to find Catlaina watching them, effectively putting an end to whichever sort of exchange they had been having.

"Yes, well." She coughed a bit and suppressed the blush that threatened to invade her cheeks. "Dunban, have you had the chance to tour the city yet?"

"I have not," he said as the seriousness rushed back into his face. "The others went with Captain Ivar, but I'd stayed behind."

"Then perhaps I could be your guide one last time," she replied.

"By all means," he said, gesturing with his good arm for her to lead him. "I'd certainly enjoy seeing Alcamoth from the streets rather than Whitewing's windows."

* * *

The tour of Alcamoth dragged on for hours, though there was not a single unpleasant moment. They were friends now and she understood him slightly better after their time together. She still did not have him completely figured out. Perhaps she was closing in on the full truth. Or there could be a long path remaining, laid out before her in silent anticipation. At that point, as they approached the entrance to the Imperial Villa, she wished the mystery could stretch out forever. Give her something to keep herself grounded.

She did not wish to admit that she had had fun with him. Any such thoughts would have been an admission of defeat. Just because she never fought did not mean that she did not wage the war. It was an internal affair. Private, not meant to be witnessed by outsiders. She required herself to suffer on her own.

They stopped at the intersection of hallways where they needed to part companies, Catlaina ever-present and observing each movement. Dunban glanced at the guard then focused his attention on Melia.

"Alcamoth is beautiful," he said. "Thank you for showing me around."

"Of course."

"Well, I'd best head back to Whitewing." He seemed to see the question in her eyes and answered promptly. "The others do not know that you have prepared rooms for us here. They'll be wondering where I am if I don't return to them soon." There was a pause between them, as if they both expected the other to talk. Finally, Dunban broke the silence - just before he began walking back down the corridor towards the transporter to Ascension Hall.

"Goodnight, Melia."

She waited until his form disappeared from her sight. "Goodnight, Dunban."


	6. Chapter 6

Melia stared into the mirror of her vanity, sighing as her fingers absently toyed with the mask in her lap. It was a dreadful thing - empty eyes and fake red lips and pallid skin. She wanted nothing to do with it, yet it was customary for a woman of mixed heritage to wear it during sacred rituals. With no other option open to her, she gave in and slipped the mask over her face, securing the strap around the back of her head.

The mirror reflected her image, suddenly monstrous with lack of emotion and too-perfect features. She wrenched her gaze away and turned instead to Catlaina. The woman smiled, stood up a little straighter when she noticed the Princess's gaze on her.

"You look lovely, Your Highness," she said.

"Thank you." Though Melia did not feel beautiful at all. She wanted to rip the mask from her face and put on display the makeup that she had painstakingly applied. It had taken an hour of her effort to perfect the look of the cosmetics, for she had little practice with such things. Yet she had truly tried today. Only for it to be covered up and smudged by an accessory that scarely allowed her to breathe. Even as a child - who had, admittedly, enjoyed playing dress up - she had hated the mask, envied those who were not required to wear it.

She remembered on one occasion - a festival held in honor of the Bionis - she had spent the entire evening alone by a fountain. A foggy memory of sadness and longing. She had been quite young back then, unaccepted by her peers. Poor, friendless Princess... The tears she had cried that night went unnoticed. Even the guard assigned to her had chosen to turn blind eye and deaf ear toward her plight. Children were expected to be needlessly cruel to 'outsiders' but an adult should have been better behaved.

That was how she thought of it, anyway and no one had bothered to prove her wrong. Except Kallian. Her brother had always made her feel welcome. She might have had fun at the festival if he had been in good enough health to attend the celebration. Not that he was currently very well... But emotional illness was entirely different from physical.

Tears sprung to her eyes at the thought. Doubt filled her mind, brought forth questions from the darkest corners of her mind. Why had he not told her that something was wrong? Why could she do nothing to help him? She knew she would lose him, had never even imagined that he could live forever. But he had at least two centuries of life remaining and she was not prepared to let go any sooner. Especially not right then, during the most difficult years of her life. She still needed him.

Slowly, she rose from her chair. The tears slid down her cheeks, though she did nothing to stop them. They could not be seen beneath the mask, anyway. And there were places to be, royal duties to accomplish. She possessed no spare time for distractions.

"Princess Melia, His Highness Prince Kallian requests permission to speak with you," one of the guards from beyond the door announced.

"Yes," she said, smoothing the skirt of her dress then quickly checking her reflection in the mirror. "Let him in."

The door opened, silent on its freshly oiled hinges, and allowed her brother to enter, along with three guards. He appeared much healthier than when she had last seen him, but she felt her heart break in spite of his apparent recovery. She could not keep herself from wondering if he would continue to struggle. Whatever pain he felt, she wished more than anything that she could take half of it upon her own shoulders. Perhaps that would be enough to convince him to keep living...

"Mother told me that you will be undergoing the Tomb Trial today," he said. He came within a few feet of her then stopped, glancing back toward the men accompanying him. But he turned back to her without speaking a word to them. "It is dangerous there. I wish I could go with you, but that violates our rules."

"I know," she replied, voice emotionless.

He nodded once, acknowledging her response. Perhaps he was disappointed by her coldness towards him, though he showed no sign. Instead, he continued on with his line of thought. "So I thought of a way that I could stay by your side, regardless." He held out the locket Melia had been admiring during their breakfast two days ago. "You do not have to wear it. I only ask that you keep it with you. Always."

She hesitated. The necklace dangled from its pure silver chain, sparkling yet taunting. Of course, she wanted to accept the gift, but she knew that she should not. A present from Kallian was much too precious for her careless hands. She did not deserve such fine jewelry.

Not too long ago, she had broken one of her hairclips in a sudden fit of anger. It had been a rough day for her, failing in her lessons and facing harsh punishment from her father. She had sent herself to bed, prepared for sleep in a blur of enraged movements. Including tearing the ornament from her hair and throwing it to the ground. It was only in the morning that she realized what she had done.

She happened upon the scattered fragments and wept, for the object, though far from expensive, had belonged to her mother. One of the few possessions that Melia had been permitted to inherit.

"Please take it." Kallian's voice broke in to her thoughts, shattering the image of her ruined keepsake and jolting her back to the current situation. "Sister... Do not deny me this one happiness..."

Freshly reminded of her brother's frail state of mind, she reached out her hand. The locket's weight fell into her palm, but she did not cast her gaze upon it. Her eyes locked on Kallian, assessed his features. The smile that now tugged at his lips. The faint glimmer that appeared in his eyes, barely distinguishable from a feverish shine. It was not nearly enough to reassure her, yet she accepted the proof she had found.

"Thank you," she said, allowing Catlaina to take the locket from her.

"I will be sure that she wears it into the Tomb, Your Highness," the guard promised. Then she bowed deeply and moved to secure the chain around Melia's neck.

The Princess tensed, but did not resist. She knew she could not offend her brother in such a way, so she resolved to wear the necklace once then never again. Surely, the Tomb would not be as treacherous as she imagined. Even with an abundance of powerful enemies, she still held some confidence in her abilities to protect the gift from outside forces. It was her own temperament that she feared. More often than not, it caused more damage than she was comfortable admitting to. Though she hoped that she would be fortunate today and manage to control it.

"Melia," her brother said, resting his hand on her shoulder. "Please be careful..."

"I will try."

* * *

The sun had only just crested the horizon when Melia, Catlaina, Minister Lorithia, and Minister Asdis arrived at the High Entia Tomb. Three of the women walked right up to the entrance while the guard hung back, watching them dutifully. With a deep metalic thrum, the barrier disappeared and allowed for entry into the sacred place. But no one moved.

"Princess, this shall be considered your first and final trial," Lorithia said, a venomous smirk playing over her lips. A cruel expression, yet she assumed her companions would mistake it for mirth. "Should you succeed, not a soul will doubt your legitimacy from this day forward. Do proceed with caution, though. We are all anxious to see you return safely." She turned her head slightly to the side, letting her eyes rest on her fellow minister's face. "Anything to add, Asdis?"

"I don't believe so. Oh, hold on a moment..." The younger minister shuffled through her stack of documents, dropping pens and metal clips as she did so. Sighing in annoyance, she clawed through the papers more vigorously until she produced the one she had been seeking. "Ah, yes. Here it is. This little slip I have - nothing to worry about, Your Highness, really - it's just a bit of legal banter. If you'll permit me to explain?"

Melia nodded once.

"Very good," Asdis said, smiling and sparing a finger to push up her sharp-framed spectacles. Her eyes narrowed as she scanned the page a few times. Then she handed it over to the Princess. "You see, Your Highness, in the unlikely event that you do not return from the Tomb, we must ensure that your belongings are properly taken care of."

"That is reasonable, I suppose..." she mumbled, not wishing to think about how 'unlikely' her death truly was. She skimmed the words to distract herself, though found them confusing. Then her eyes settled upon the signature line. "And, if I should sign this, what am I agreeing to, exactly?"

"It legally promises all of your possessions to the First Consort," the Minister of Records replied as she pressed a pen into Melia's hand. "We thought this would be better than having to auction everything off. And Her Highness will be able to protect your memory if she was entitled to your personal effects. Does that agree with you, Princess?"

Melia frowned inwardly. Such an arrangement seemed strange to her, as if perhaps Asdis was attempting to fool her. Her eyes studied the document a few more times and found nothing suspicious. So she signed her name upon the line then returned the paper to the minister's haphazard pile. The three women exchanged glances, questioning and triumphant and worried all at once. Then, without a single word passed between them, they decided that it was time for the trial to begin.

Taking a deep breath, Melia stepped into the High Entia Tomb. She walked not even five steps before the barrier materialized once more, effectively trapping her within. But she still possessed her resolve - one of her most strongly exercised traits. With its power, she found herself able to push forward, stride further down the corridor, which felt uncomfortably cold. It brought to her mind memories of another sort of entrapment from long ago.

She had been ordered to go to one of the Investigation rooms, for she was required to take an examination of some kind. Being only a young child, she had not thought to question the First Consort's authority and knowledge. So she accepted the paper and pen then entered the chamber via the transporter. A few questions were completed before the icy blue light died out, robbing her of her sight. Then the heat failed. She remembered the feeling of frozen metal against her hands as she tried to hit the machine until it worked again. But its turquoise flame would not ignite, despite her best efforts.

In the end, they found her, a summoned flame bobbing in the air in front of her and her tiny form curled into a ball, seemingly asleep. She woke when she felt something touch her arm. Opening her eyes, she found her mother there - a wizened old woman, strong even though impared health threatened her without fail.

The Homs woman wrapped her wrinkled arms around Melia's young body, instantly warming her with the embrace. "Don't cry, little one. I'm here. Mama's here. I promise I won't ever leave you..." She picked up her daughter and stepped onto the newly repaired transporter.

Melia shook herself vigorously, freeing her mind from the tangles of long-forgotten moments, pockets of time that could never be reclaimed. There was work to be done in the present. She scolded her emotions for forgetting something that vital to her survival. Then she forged ahead, entering a dead-end room with a control panel protruding from the smooth floor. It housed a single button, which she promptly pressed.

It - whatever 'it' was - greeted her in its garbled Mechon-like voice then recited a number that made no true impression upon her thoughts. Perhaps it recognized her confusion, thought her foolish for being unable to understand such a simple method of time-keeping. But it did not say so. Instead, it asked for her name and the purpose of her visit.

"I am Melia Antiqua," she said, hoping to make her own voice more dignified and confident than she felt. "I have come to prove that I shall be a worthy successor to the High Entia Empire."

The machine did not instantly reply and, for a moment, she feared that it did not believe her answer. Her heart rate increased, her palms began to sweat. The longer she was kept in suspense, the more dramatic these reactions became. By the time the Tomb bathed her in DNA-reading green light and told her that she was permitted to move on, she felt faint. She took a deep breath, gathered herself as completely as possible, then continued into the chamber beyond the door that had just recently been opened.

With each room and each monster she faced in battle, she found herself feeling greatly assured. These ancient machines posed almost no threat to her, for she could fry their circuits with a quick Bolt before they had the chance to register her presence. It seemed fairly anti-climactic, though. Almost a disappointment for a girl who had been raised on the awe-inspiring tales of the terrors within the Tomb. The kind that killed and mutilated almost without fail. The kind that required a hero among heroes to be properly defeated.

She shoved that feeling aside, reminding herself to be grateful that she remained alive and unharmed. As she had these thoughts, her hand instinctively flew to her neck and felt for the chain of her locket. It was still secure, thankfully, and it seemed as though the pendent was also fully intact. She huffed out a sigh of relief then allowed her hand to drop back to her side. If she stayed in one place too long, she was certain that she would be trapped forever. so she continued across the golden light-bridge toward her final challenge.

The Ceremony Hall appeared more ornate than she had imagined, though she supposed that such a detail was of little consequence. The chamber was lined with towering columns, each one adorned with a glowing emerald orb. Directly across from her, a carving graced the wall. Its intricate design cut deep into the smooth marble and she briefly found herself enchanted by the blue stone set into the apex of the ancient pattern.

When she regained her senses - scarcely a heartbeat after they had first fled - she dropped to her knees and waited. She did not know what she expected, but she mustered up her most respectful patience. In the end, she was rewarded with the deep and authoritative tones that were completely unlike the voice that had questioned her earlier. This man seemed nearly real, though, as if she could reach out and touch him. Of course, she refrained from such a foolish action, for she knew that his only physical form was the flashing light of the blue orb. A soft light that pulsed with the natural cadences of the stranger's voice.

He spoke to her, shared the wisdom of the ancients. And she listened, though he often talked about things she did not understand. She nodded when she thought such action necessary, but aside from that, she remained utterly still. Attempting to comprehend the words about genes and curses, she knew she could not lose focus or distract herself.

His speech finished and he proclaimed that she shall be the next ruler of the High Entia people, branding the forehead of her mask with some sort of royal seal. In the back of her mind, she felt a quick spike of relief that left her grateful for the accessory's presence. But its occupation of her thoughts was brief, shoved to the side by a more pressing matter. What had her ancestor meant when he said she was likely to be the last? However, she had no time to ponder.

"So, the spirits look favorably upon you?" The unfamiliar and malicious voice of the intruder assaulted her ears. "I had hoped they would have been more intelligent..."

Melia whirled around, coming face to face with a masked High Entia woman. "Who are you?" she demanded as her hand reached for her staff. "You are not permitted to be here."

"I need no permission," the assassin replied, lunging at the Princess, daggers drawn.

She reacted quickly, jerked the staff into a defensive position in front of her. The first knife bit into the wood, while the second one corrected its aim. It connected with the fabric of her dress, opening a gash that exposed an uncomfortably large section of her stomach. She jumped backward and summoned earth. A rocky barrier built itself between the two combatants as Melia attempted to regain a steady breath.

Yet her assailant tore through the stone chunks almost effortlessly, using her daggers like claws to dismantle the shield. She stepped over the rubble and cackled as she crept closer to her target, both knives poised to take the Princess's life.

"You are filth," she hissed, lashing out with one of the blades. Melia dodged backward, unbalanced and falling on to the steely cold tiles. "A half-breed has no right to the throne!" The assassin smirked at being presented such an opportunity, pounced on it without hesitation. She pinned the High Entia royal to the floor with one hand and held both daggers in the other, meticulously positioning the blades against her victim's throat.

Melia struggled beneath the masked woman, desperate to free even just one of her hands. There had to be something she could do. Her mind raced through each plan she hurriedly concocted, though declared each one ineffective or impossible. Although, if she could simply get a grip on her staff - which lay mere inches from her fingertips - then she could... The thoughts cut off when she felt it. Cold at first, then terrible searing pain. She heard herself gasp, cry out as agony tore through every vein. Her heart thumped harder, beating against her rib cage and pushing more blood out of her throat wound.

"Oops," the assassin said, her venomous tone ringing with amusement, "I slipped."

* * *

It was still early in the morning, though it seemed as though an eternity had passed since Melia entered the Tomb. Kallian had retreated to his suite of rooms in the Imperial Villa after meeting with his sister's companions and felt himself becoming increasingly anxious the more he thought about what they had told him. Was she truly in trouble? With a sigh, he pushed himself out of the armchair. The three guards tensed at his sudden movement and one leapt to his side, mumbling some nonsense about depression being manageable.

And, of course, he forced a smile, agreed with the man. Then he sat down again. The attention was making him go mad. He wanted nothing more than to be alone for a few hours, not needing to worry about behaving like a troubled boy with suicidal thoughts. Although, he was well aware that he was in dire need of a cover story, so perhaps he should take it further. For the sake of anyone who doubted him.

He rose again, idea in mind, and strode purposefully towards the bathroom. The guards did not attempt to stop him. Surely, they knew such action would be improper. For once, he was glad for their sense of restraint and their adherence to the rules. He shut the door behind him then turned to examine the interior. Nothing appeared to have been disturbed, thankfully.

Seemingly of their own free will, his fingers searched through the drawers and cabinets until they connected with the familiar leather-wrapped hilt of his former training dagger. He pulled it out, admired its blade as he reminisced about better days. Then he remembered that his guards were likely to be keeping time, so he set to work. Carefully, he lowered himself to the floor, bracing his back against the tub. The blade of the dagger aligned itself with his left wrist and bit into it hard enough to make him gasp softly. He felt the blood already welling up to meet the steel, but he was not nearly done.

His hand pulled the blade across his skin - once, twice, three times. Again and again until he lost count. After the first few strokes of the knife, the only sign of progress were the widening gashes in his wrist and the increasing amount of blood pooling beside him.

Hot tears rolled down his cheeks and he felt his teeth digging into his lower lip in an attempt to silence his pained whimpers. Darkness pressed around the edges of his vision, but he willed himself to continue. He switched hands, pressed the hilt of the dagger into the one soaked in blood then raked the blade across his right wrist. The light-headedness set in almost immediately after that and he found he could no longer bear to see the thick red liquid pouring out of his sabotaged veins. There was so much of it...

He leaned his head back against the bathtub, closing his eyes. For a brief moment, he thought he could hear something - footsteps, maybe, and someone calling his name. But then the dark enticed him, lured him away from his guards and into its bittersweet embrace.

The knife slipped from his hand, clattering on the tiles, coming to rest in a rapidly expanding puddle of blood.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N - I just wanted to say a quick thank you to the guest that left me a review for chapter 1 and make sure that they knew I saw it. I really appreciate both the praise and the criticism and I hope I've done better with adding more descriptions in the other chapters. Anyway, please enjoy chapter 7!**

* * *

Melia's eyes widened in shock, feeling hot blood trickle down her throat. The masked woman leaned back and the empty eye holes took in their owner's handiwork. Surely, High Entia irises gloated from behind that leather screen, though she could not see them, could scarcely focus on anything at all. Pain consumed her. She clenched her teeth against it, preventing any further expression of agony. Then she focused, found a small well of strength deep within her. Just enough to free a hand and hook her fingers around the staff.

With a newfound sense of control making her heart pound, she closed her eyes. The ether pulsed through her veins with each beat, gained more power as it picked up the stray shreds of energy that occupied her blood. It gathered in the center of her chest, a massive orb prepared to burst and she breathed in almost reverently, feeling the ether swell in unison with her lungs. She exhaled.

Perhaps it was her breath that had strengthened or perhaps she had summoned wind without meaning to. Either way, her assailant was thrown backward, sent skidding across the tiled floor. Both women scrambled to their feet and faced each other. The assassin growled deep in her throat then lunged again, brandishing her daggers. Melia raised her staff, managed to catch both blades at once. She pushed hard against her attacker, just enough to put some space between the two.

Then she sensed something - perhaps just a breath or a feather light touch descending upon her. It was heat, a quiet tension hovering overhead that seemed to squeeze the room smaller and smaller. She felt claustrophobic, tried to keep her gaze from straying. There was nothing wrong. Her mind demanded that she focus entirely on her foe, who had dropped into an animalistic crouch as if preparing to pounce on what she considered to be prey. And, despite the increasing unease, she could distinctly imagine the feel of the assassin's blades as they dug into her skin. She shuddered, a scarcely perceptible movement, then raised her staff to launch an attack of her own.

"Melia! Look out!" She turned her head, seeking the source of the sudden vocal interruption. _Is that... Shulk?_

The tension dropped down on her, revealing to her its true form. A Telethia. She stumbled backward to safety as its claw grazed the skin of her neck. The assassin sprung on to the Princess, finding a window of opportunity in which she could accomplish her mission. Melia regained her balance by planting her staff into the ground then looked from the Telethia to the assassin, utterly disoriented and unable to find the proper defense tactic to use in the current situation. She froze in place, lips moving wordlessly, trying to summon _something_.

A body placed itself in front of her, perrying the masked woman's daggers with ease. Her gaze locked on to the blond locks of hair and she felt herself relax, her senses flood back to her. It was Shulk. He had come to save her - a thought that made her heart beat a little faster. Unbidden, a smile took over her mouth, as though everything were perfectly alright and they weren't embroiled in a terrible conflict.

She shook herself out of the trance, summoned ice. The patch of tiles beneath her attacker's feet froze over, causing the woman to slip. Shulk swung the Monado down on her, but she managed to roll out of the way just in time. The blade instead struck the ice upon which she had been sprawled, breaking it into tiny glittering fragments.

The High Entia Princess jumped forward, cracking her staff across the assassin's left wrist. Her efforts were rewarded with a soft hiss of pain and the clattering sound of one of the daggers hitting the floor.

"Nice one, Melia!" Shulk said, briefly turning to smile at her before refocusing on the battle.

She wished she could have done the same, but his expression of approval continued to distract her long after the grin had transformed into a grimace. Seeing the gentle curves of his lips tilt upward gave her butterflies. That fluttering sensation intensely manifesting in both her stomach and heart... She bit her lip hard in an attempt to force her thoughts back to the battle at hand, but they would not obey.

Instead, the more she tried to ignore it, the more vivid her imaginations became. Unusual visuals assaulted her mind's eye while unfamiliar sensations tingled throughout her body. She could almost see Shulk's face draw closer, could feel the gentle pressure of his lips as they moved over hers, capturing, asserting dominance. In her mind, they were safe, curled up together in her private chambers and free to do as they pleased. A blush crept into her cheeks at the thought of progressing to even more intimate activities with him.

A hand grabbed her arm, yanking her backward and Shulk's real face, not the imagined one, swam into view. "You okay?" he asked as he guided her away from both the assassin and the Telethia.

Melia felt the redness in her cheeks intensify with embarrassment. With some difficulty, she collected herself, pulled her arm from his grip even though all she wished to do right then was maintain physical contact. "Yes, of course. I am fine." Her voice was stiff, somehow managing to rein in all her wayward emotions, lock them in the deepest part of her being. Perhaps she would revisit them later, in private.

Shulk opened his mouth to answer, but the roar of the Telethia cut him off. Both sets of eyes turned to the beast, momentarily forgetting the assassin that slowly crept towards them. The Telethia screeched again and threw itself towards Melia. It was angry, wanted to end all the lives around it but hers especially. Though she was not frightened. Shulk would protect her.

It almost seemed strange to her that she could have such confidence in a man she barely knew. Surely, by this point in her life, she had been given enough reasons to trust only in herself. No one else was entirely guaranteed to have her best interests in mind. She was the only person who would ever be on guard for her safety at all times. Not even Catlaina was expected to be so vigilant. Somewhere deep within her, she wondered if suspicion poisoned her, if constantly living in fear of betrayal was unhealthy. But she shoved those thoughts aside. After all, they rather hindered her fighting abilities.

Her mind suddenly returned to her and she summoned fire, remembering that the flames lashed out in all directions. She created a blazing ring around her and Shulk then pushed it outwards. The Telethia howled in pain as its flesh burned, but the assassin had leapt back, easily avoiding the hungry flames.

She sent another wave of fire crashing after the masked High Entia woman. That time, she heard the agonized cry she had dared to hope for. Briefly, she entertained the idea that she managed to kill the assassin and so turned her attention on the Telethia. It seemed close to its final breaths, its movements erratic and clumps of its flesh missing. Dunban and Reyn attacked it relentlessly. Their respective weapons clashed against the monster's body, caused its metallic blue blood to spill and taint the once-pristine floor tiles.

Sharla and Riki hung back. The medic launched round after round of healing shots, but the Heropon seemed to be simply hiding from battle. Perhaps, when this was all over, he would insist that he had been protecting the healer and that he had been utterly instrumental in their victory. Melia fought back a smile, scolding herself for once again becoming distracted. But she found her focus surprisingly easily, just in time to see Reyn deliver the final blow.

He lunged forward, struck the Telethia in the direct center of its underbelly. Flesh ripped and a gush of indigo blood soaked him completely. The monster shrieked as it flew around the room in frantic lines, perhaps seeking relief from its agony. In its death throes, one of its appendages connected with the assassin's face and separated her from her mask. She had been just about to launch another attack on Melia, but the force of the monster's flailing sent her flying backwards, far from her target. With a startled shout, she raised her arm to hide her identity then scrambled to collect her mask from the ground.

"Telethia!" she screamed as she retreated towards her secret escape route. "Kill as many of them as you can!"

Then she disappeared. But the others were much too preoccupied with the threat of an exploding monster to pay her any heed. They noticed the Telethia's glow - a light that became more intense the closer it got to death - and Melia felt the distinct tremble of fear run through her. If ether burst out of the creature's body, she knew that they would all die. In such a confined space, the power of the aftershock would be awe-inspiring, certainly enough to rip their entire existences into insignificant shreds.

Alvis stepped forward, arm raised with the palm of his hand facing the expiring beast. A look of fierce concentration took over his eyes, turned them dark. The ether exploded out of the Telethia, but did not approach the group, did not even come close. Its green light illuminated his face and highlighted the tension in the silver haired boy's features as he held back the powerful essence. When the ether faded, Melia noticed him heave a sigh of relief, saw him swaying slightly. Perhaps the feat had almost been too much for him... She shuddered involuntarily and tried not to think about what would have occurred if he had been unable to hold back the ether.

For a long moment, no one spoke. Without a doubt, though, each of them were having their own silent celebrations, a time in which they came down from their combat highs and thanked Bionis for the chance to just keep living. Melia observed her each of her companions intently during these few seconds, took note of each miniscule detail.

Alvis was grey in the face, his eyes distant and sweat beading along his hairline. She wondered if that was the price to pay for such a grand display of containment. Exhaustion. All-consuming fatigue that wore him down to his very bones. Then he simply shook himself out of it, shedding any sign of strain.

She shifted her gaze to the main group. They all seemed alright, even beginning to talk about the recent events. As she had predicted, Riki attempted to take all the credit for the victory. Reyn, however, was too busy with cleaning off the Telethia blood to retort and everyone else smiled wanly, grateful that they did not have to listen to the pointless arguing just yet. Perhaps it would be coming soon, but for now, they were glad to experience this fragile peace.

"Melia, you're hurt..." It was Dunban's voice that broke into her thoughts and forced her to focus on him. Her eyes fell upon the chestplate of his armor which had been nearly completely gouged out by the Telethia's claws.

"And you are in need of new armor," she replied dryly. Though she would never have the audacity to admit it, she had yet to forgive him for agreeing to the arranged marriage. Surely, he could have put an end to that dreadful business. Why had he not fought against her father's demands? Of course, she knew it was wrong of her to treat him poorly, especially since the arrangement was a High Entia tradition and she had already given him the impression that she approved.

He allowed himself a slight smile, most definitely mistaking her distant tone for humor of some kind and she was not of a mind to correct him. Right then, she wished to just relax, forget about nearly losing her life. At least for a little while.

After some passive aggressive arguing between the two, she finally consented to having her neck wound treated by Sharla. Fortunately, the injury was not as severe as it had originally appeared and she was back on her feet in a matter of minutes. Her hand ghosted up to the bandages, testing their strength. It took only a few touches before she realized something was wrong. Dread pooled in her stomach like buckets of icy water and her heart seemed to stop beating.

"Sharla?" She kept her tone even as she requested her friend's assistance, desperate to mask the fact that her most recent discovery had sent her into a panic. "Did you perhaps remove my locket when you tended to my wound?"

The healer shook her head, dark locks bouncing. "No, I didn't even see a necklace."

That sense of dread worsened, but she maintained every bit of emotional control. She tried to convince herself that the situation was not so terrible, that it was just a piece of jewelry. But Kallian had given it to her and she could feel guilt mingling with the anxiety from before, giving her a bit of a headache. And yet, she had become so good at hiding her feelings that she doubted anyone could see through to her turmoil.

"Ooh, Riki find shiny shiny!" Melia felt her heart leap at the words she overheard from across the room, a new hope surging through her veins. "Riki get fixer Nopon then give shiny shiny to Oka as gift!"

The High Entia girl rushed over to the Heropon and she heaved a sigh of relief when she identified the necklace in his hand. She snatched it up from him before she could stop herself then examined it. The chain was broken - must have been cut when the Telethia attacked her - and the hinges were bent, causing the locket to hang open awkwardly. She pressed the gift against her chest, over her heart, feeling tears well up in her eyes.

She had known this was going to happen. The accessory had been in her possession for scarcely three hours, yet it was already broken. Why had she allowed herself to wear it? But the answer was already in her mind: Because Kallian had told her to. He said it would allow him to take on the Tomb Trial with her, that it was a symbol of his brotherly support. Did breaking it mean she had lost that blessing?

"I apologize, Riki," Melia said, voice slightly wavering, "but this is my locket. Kallian presented it to me this morning, before my departure."

"That okay, Melly," he replied as he bounced up and down like an eager child. "Riki understand." He paused, looked about the room, then broke into a massive smile. "Melly just have to promise to help Riki get new gift for Oka."

"I promise..." Something about her words sounded hollow to her ears. And she felt an unintentional flush of anger raise the temperature of her body. She knew she was not mad at Riki, but she could not prevent herself from placing a small amount of blame on him. After all, was it not his fault that she felt a sudden emotional disconnect with her brother? No. It was not. It was her fault. She hung her head in shame.

"Lighten up, Melia," Reyn said from a few feet away. He stood beside Shulk and she instantly found her focus shifting to the blond Homs, which somewhat dampened the enraging effect of Reyn's words. "It's just a necklace."

Maybe a piece of her soul broke when he said that. She felt sharp pain in her heart, sensed that the dam that held back her feelings cracked, letting the emotions leak through. A single tear rolled down her cheek, but she quickly wiped it away when she noticed Shulk was watching her. He stepped closer and studied her, kindness warming his expression.

"Can I see it?" he asked, not yet daring to hold out his hand. Perhaps he felt that he did not have the right to reach out, demand her cooperation.

"Yes." With some difficulty, she pulled the locket away from her chest and allowed him to take it from its place on her palm.

His blue eyes looked it over a few times then he fiddled with the hinges, gently caressing them with his index finger as if to assess the damage. After a few seconds of this, he looked up at her, fully meeting her gaze, and smiled faintly. "This isn't so bad. I can fix it for you, if you'll let me hold on to it for a few days."

She did not know immediately what to say, just nodded a few times. Quick, eager bobs of her head. A warmth flooded through her body, much different from the heat of anger that she had felt earlier. It was unfamiliar to her, however, and found herself contemplating what it could be. _Is this affection?_ she wondered, searching through her mental library of emotions. Perhaps. But then she remembered her current situation. If he finished the necklace in a few days, it would most likely be a wedding gift...

"Thank you, Shulk," she said simply then turned to the others. "Let us return to Alcamoth. Staying here any longer will surely do us no good."

* * *

Although she was loath to admit it, Melia was well aware that she did not wish to see Kallian immediately upon her return. Shame still ghosted along her nerves, demanding to know how she would face him after she had so carelessly ruined the precious gift. So she simply decided to avoid him until she could forgive herself.

She entered the throne room, Catlaina on her heels, and knelt before her father. His usually warm tones seemed harsh as they commanded her to rise. A chill jolted down her spine, made her knees weak as she regained her standing position. Lightly, she bit down on her lip then scanned the perimeter of the Audience Chamber. She noticed extra guards in each of the corners, but more than that, she noticed the empty space to the right of the Emperor. Her mind dully wondered where her brother was, if not in his rightful place beside their father, though she knew she could not dwell on his absence.

Without waiting for permission, she launched into her retelling of what had transpired in the High Entia Tomb. She kept it brief, unwilling to share every miniscule detail. Besides, if her father refrained from asking, she felt no obligation to answer. And he did not question her story, did not wonder at the bloody bandages wrapped around her neck. Truthfully, he seemed preoccupied. There must have been something bothering him.

"Has there been some new misfortune while I was away?" she asked, thinking that she was taking a rather significant risk. When her father's moods turned dark, he was unpredictable. Like a thunderstorm - his words the booming thunder and his violence a bolt of lighting. It was impossible to predict where he would strike.

He sighed softly, a sad twinkle in his eye. Perhaps it was a tear, but he banished it before she could look to closely. "I am uncertain of the best way to share this terrible news with you, my dear." A soft sigh escaped his lips, dismal, a lonely sound like a Volff separated from its pack. "It... concerns Kallian."

She felt her blood turn to ice, but she kept all emotion out of her voice as she asked, "Is he dead?"

"He tried to be, though he is not," the Emperor replied solemnly.

"Where is he now?"

* * *

Harsh sunlight shone through the curtain, casting strangely colored shadows upon the floor of the healer's workplace. Early morning had long since been taken over by the afternoon hours and the hot air felt thick with sorrow and sickness. The room itself was too small for the five people that occupied it - scarcely 8 feet wide and 10 feet long - though the privacy of it was a luxury that other patients could not afford.

Yumea sat at her son's bedside in a padded chair that she had made her personal guard carry. The man stood outside the door now, questioning any person who got too close to the Prince's designated space. Then there were Kallian's personal guards, three of them in total that would surely be increasing in number after this incident. But they had blind eyes and deaf ears when they were ordered to, so the First Consort was not concerned that her display of tenderness would be gossiped about.

She ran her fingers through her unconscious son's hair, murmuring gentle reassurances. The healer promised that he would be alright. His wrists would be permanently scarred, of course, but there was no other damage. Yet she could not quite trust that assessment. In terms of physical health, perhaps that woman had told the truth. But Kallian's illness was certainly not one that could be detected by the eye, even if said eye belonged to a trained medic.

He had attempted to end his life twice now. Her baby... She felt her free hand wiping away those unruly tears, but she did not control such action. It happened automatically. That was how she had been raised. Maintain perfection, austerity. Do not crack. Do not break.

Yet she felt that those teachings did her little good, considering the current situation. The child she had brought forth into the world no longer wished to live. She thought she had every right to fall apart, cry hysterically until she was comforted by her loving husband. A small part of her desired very much to just crumble and reveal her darkest, fiercest emotions. But the rest of her knew she could not be so weak. Not even on her own. For, if she fell apart, there would be no one to piece her back together. Yes, Sorean loved her - and she loved him - but he could never understand.

With a weary sigh, she rose from her seat, still caressing Kallian's hair. Then her fingers moved to his wings, delicately tracing the outline of each feather. She stopped abruptly as a sudden sense of unease took her senses. Her mind kicked in to high alert and all she could think of was fleeing the scene. Something was coming.

Her eyes fell upon Kallian's serene face and she knew she could not leave him when there was potential danger. Leaning down, she pressed a loving kiss against his forehead. His skin felt feverish on her icy lips, but she had no time to contemplate the implications of such an observation. As she regained her proper posture, the door burst open.

"Yumea Antiqua, you are under arrest for conspiracy to murder Crown Princess Melia Antiqua," an unfamiliar High Entia man said, voice strong, commanding. "Come peacefully or else I shall have no choice but to use force."

"I did no such thing," she replied, curling her fingers around her son's hand for support. "Upon whose authority do you act? This is unacceptable. You shall not treat me as some common criminal."

The man took hold over her shoulders roughly in a grip hard enough to leave dark purple bruises on her skin. She struggled against him, though was unable to free herself. He shoved her towards the wall, pressed her face into the light-colored metal, and jerked her hands behind her back. A small whimper of pain escaped her as her arms were wrenched around. She felt heavy restraints tighten around her wrists, securing her in that utterly defenseless position. Slowly, the man turned her so that she was facing him then grasped her arm.

"How dare you do this to me," she hissed as he dragged her out of the room.

"I will do with you whatever I please, Your Highness." His voice was pure venom, causing dreadful shivers to run through Yumea's body. For the first time that day, she worried not for her son, but for herself.


	8. Chapter 8

She could hear the shuffling of the crowd long before she opened the twin doors to the balcony. With slim fingers that trembled, she pushed the tiara further back on her head. As she did so, her hands brushed against her silvery hair which had been made coarse and stiff by the unnamed products the stylists had used. The Princess grimaced at the feeling then dropped her arms back to her sides. She checked her makeup in the reflective surface of the doorframe and, upon finding it still in order, settled on her heels to wait.

It could have been hours before her father arrived with her husband-to-be. Although, the reasonable part of her had counted only a few minutes of being forced to stand alone, overdone and fidgeting. She smiled graciously at the approaching men as she managed to pull herself out of her thoughts long enough to realize the time was nearly upon them. Her heart rocketed into her throat at the realization.

In just a few moments, the entire city of Alcamoth would know of her engagement. And that scared her more than a whole hoard of Telethia. Perhaps they would give her sidelong glances as she passed them by on the street, full of disapproval and unvoiced questions. They would wonder how such a thing could come to pass in only a matter of days. They would know she could not defend herself against royal pressures and outside forces and surely, the entirety of the Empire would be buzzing with speculation and scandal. Of course, they could say whatever they pleased and need not fear retribution. As long as she did not listen to them too closely, she would be alright.

"It is time." Her father's voice boomed in her ear, jolting her out of her head. He pulled open the doors almost recklessly, let them slam against the metallic walls with deafening clangs. The audience beyond fell into an expectant hush, no doubt eager to hear the urgent news.

Melia recovered herself fully, remembered where she was, what was about to occur, and took hold of Dunban's arm. Her eyes studied his features as he led her out onto the balcony. He did not seem nervous, like she had hoped. Rather, his face was calm, gaze dark with extreme focus. She could not prevent herself from wondering what he was thinking about, if he noticed her scrutiny, if he was at all bothered by the crowd that now watched his every move with a critical mind-set.

They stopped just before the very edge of the platform, yet were close enough to see the dizzying drop to the audience far below. She tried not to look down or acknowledge how her heart raced and jumped and twisted up whenever she snuck a peek at the faces of her people. Wind - even the most powerful summoned gale - would not save her if she fell from such a height. But she could display no weakness, for her face was projected across dozens of giant screens that were implanted in the dome that surrounded Alcamoth. Unconsciously, her fingers tightened around Dunban's bicep, hoping to Bionis that he had not noticed.

A bit of a smirk played on the corners of his mouth and, though he showed no further signs, Melia felt heat rush to her cheeks. Would he think her weak for her apparent dependence on him? Perhaps. Yet she suspected he possessed enough sense to never speak of this moment again. And surely, his friends would inquire mercilessly, each of the four possibly angered that they had not been warned about the arrangement. Hopefully, they would be given no direct answers. No matter how close they all were... It had to be a secret. For the sake of her pride.

She felt a shudder pass through her body, tingling down her spine and turning her extremities into icicles. It was not entirely unpleasant and was instead startling. Her eyes glanced around as casually as she could manage in an attempt to seek out the cause of her sudden chill without alerting the audience. Although they seemed too enthralled by the Emperor's words to take any notice of the Princess's wandering gaze.

"-and I ask of you to give them your blessing," her father was saying as he gestured toward her and Dunban. The mass of people clogging the plaza did not make a sound. Utter silence stifled the once refreshing night air for long moments before Sorean continued speaking. "They shall be wed in three days. You are all invited to attend the ceremony and partake in the feast!"

Upon learning of free food, the crowd broke out in joyous cheers that could not be subdued. At that exact second, as the celebratory shouts rose to unbearable decibels and a gust of hot air blew against her face, shadows appeared around the edges of her vision. She swayed on her feet, dizzy and disoriented. Dunban turned to look at her, spoke words she could not understand. Then he pulled her backward until they were hidden from the hundreds of eyes that had been trained on them. He took hold of both her shoulders and steadied her.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

"Yes, I..." She trailed off, unable to finish the lie.

Catlaina appeared at her side, eyes appraising. "You are very pale, Your Highness." She gently guided Melia out of Dunban's grasp, sneaking the Homs man a dirty look while the Princess was not paying attention. "Please, allow me to escort you to your chambers early. It has been a trying day for you."

Melia had nearly forgotten about the events of the Tomb Trial that had occured that morning. It seemed thousands of worlds away when she tried to reflect. The whole scene was a blur, smothered in a colorless haze. She did not force it, knew that doing so would cause more pain than the effort was truly worth. Those memories did her little good. She was approved by her ancestors and she had escaped with her life. That was all that mattered.

Yet, there were nagging little details on the outer fringes of her mind, remaining shrouded in darkness just deep enough to conceal the truth. Sometimes, she could visualize a movement, an indistinct shape gliding beneath the shadows, but she could not coax it out of hiding. And, surely, that was not an action she wanted to take, for certain secrets were never meant to be revealed. At the thought, she bit back the urge to laugh. How absurd it was that she was unable to completely recall a moment of trauma that she experienced personally. Then she claimed she had no right to know exactly what had transpired. Absolutely absurd...

The scenery of the Imperial Palace flew by the pair of women in a blur. She found herself wondering if she would even manage to remember this moment when the sun rose anew the next morning. And perhaps, that would not have been a bad thing, if she did not have a strong feeling that something important was about to happen. In spite of Catlaina's urgings, Melia paused once they entered the Great Hall. She turned to face Donnis - the usual night guard - but found Kaelin standing there instead. The young man had dark circles beneath his eyes and his shoulders slumped forward.

"Kaelin, where is Donnis?" Melia asked, concern flooding into her system, banishing any remaining sense of unease. "You look exhausted."

"I haven't gotten accustomed to my new sleep schedule just yet," he replied with a yawn. "Minister Caul thought it would be best if I switched to the night shift... But don't let this worry you, Your Highness. It's only a minor adjustment."

His words confused her, but she decided not to press him. After all, what Caul chose to do with his men was none of her concern. Even if there was a problem - overworking the soldiers, for instance - she was not the one to take care of it. Kallian was. And in extreme cases, the Emperor himself would step in. She supposed that the latter would have to be the case for now. As long as her brother was ailing.

It caused unpleasant tremors to roll through her body as she remembered visiting him that afternoon. He had been awake, though his face was bloodless and his eyes were clouded with fatigue. She heard his voice in her mind, requesting to know what had happened to him. And it broke her heart as she had to take a step back, listen to the guard explain Kallian's most recent suicide attempt. Because she had not known the answer. She had not been there to help him.

He had smiled at her and said everything was alright. She wanted to believe him with every bit of her existence, but she could not. There _was_ something wrong. Even if she could do nothing to lessen his pain, it still manifested itself in his actions, which she had failed to prevent.

Then the healer had arrived, prescribing him more medicines that would keep him in a state of unconsciousness. She protested, although all of her royal training demanded that she remain silent. But she refused. She demanded to know how he would fulfill his duties with the Ministries if he was not allowed to wake. And the healer's response still echoed in her ears: _He is no longer fit to carry out such tasks. His mind is far too unstable to trust him with those things._

She cringed, hearing the words again despite the distance between her and the infirmary. In her mind, she pictured Kallian's reaction to the woman's statement, the way he stopped breathing for a moment, how his shoulders sank further down into the mattress. It broke her heart to see him look so defeated, to be required to stand with him as he lost one of the only things that could convince him to stay alive. She felt sick already. But the feeling became even worse as she recalled how she was ushered out of the room by the healer who instantly turned around and force-fed the medicines to the Prince. Her brother's gagging chased her down the long corridor of filled beds and agony, only abaiting when she exited the infirmary and closed the heavy door behind her.

"This is completely unnecessary!" The enraged words broke into her thoughts, shattering the half-formed image of her brother struggling against the hands that forced sedatives down his throat.

Melia glanced around then rested her eyes on the guard that approached them. Lucio. The man was no longer dressed in the armor of an imperial guard, though he still had his sword in a scabbard on his hip. She noted the time and assumed that his shift had been over for just over two hours now. He stopped in front of Kaelin, seemed to notice the Princess with a jolt, and offered up a hasty bow. But her presence did not stop him from continuing his rant.

"If anyone should be taken off the day shift, it's Galvin. He was the one who started all of this." Lucio took hold of Kaelin's wrist. "Come on. Let us tell the good ol' Minister what we think of his schedule change."

"I... You know I can't," Kaelin replied, pulling his arm out of the older man's grasp. Then he rested his hand on Lucio's shoulder in an attempt to calm him. "Look, I don't mind the night shift. It's quiet, gives me some time to really think about things. And Galvin won't bother me anymore... So don't waste your breath on Minister Caul. He won't listen." He smiled a bit, gave the other soldier's arm a gentle squeeze. "I'm fine. I promise."

"But what about..." Lucio stopped himself as he glanced at Melia, seeming to remember that she was standing close enough to hear him. Coughing lightly, he let his question remain unspoken.

A slight blush bloomed in Kaelin's cheeks and he let his hand drop back to his side. "I-I'm sure we'll be able to find time for that. Donnis will help, hopefully..."

"Princess, please, let us not stay here," Catlaina said, breaking into the conversation as she cast pointed glances toward each of the two guards. "You are not well enough to be standing around in idle conversation. We must get you to bed so that you may rest and heal."

Melia simply nodded, suddenly feeling too tired to fight against her guard's insisting. She bid Lucio and Kaelin a good night then continued on her way toward the Villa. The walk was far from long, but she felt as if she had walked miles by the time she reached the transporter. And more walking awaited her when she arrived outside of her home. She groaned inwardly then continued trudging onward. The comfort of a warm bed and sheets to hide beneath must have been all that kept her going, for once she was laid in her bed - hair and makeup left as they had been for the announcement - it was not long before the darkness of sleep consumed her.

* * *

"When were you two going to tell us?" Sharla demanded, placing her hands on her hips and huffing in disbelief. "Did you think we wouldn't find out about this?"

Dunban sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. Over the past few hours, he had planned at least a dozen ways to reveal that he intended to marry Melia. A dozen ways and more than a hundred unique scenarios. This was not one of them. But he knew the truth was the only option now - his friends deserved it. He took a few breaths, seeking out the proper words to say. Upon finding nothing useful, he decided to simply explain what had occured in the Audience Chamber with the Emperor. Even the part about using the arrangement as a bargaining chip to get them into Prison Island.

"It is my end of the deal," he concluded, trying not to look too deeply into their eyes. Most of them were not pleased with him. Only Reyn seemed to be happy, but his triumphant grin was quickly wiped away by Sharla's elbow striking him in the ribs.

"Riki angry!" the Heropon announced as he bounced furiously upon the stark center table in Whitewing, calling for the attention of everyone in the room. "Dun Dun not treasure Melly more than he treasure bugs. Dun Dun need to love Melly like Riki love Oka."

"I agree with Riki," Shulk said. "This isn't honest and she's going to get hurt."

The older Homs glanced around to each of his companions. He shook his head slightly, tried to comprehend how they could refuse to support his decision. It made little sense. The entire purpose of coming to Alcamoth was to obtain royal sanction in order to enter Prison Island and avenge Fiora. And now that he had secured such permission, they spurned him for the method he had used to acquire it.

"What about my sister?" he asked, dark eyes fierce. He set his gaze on Shulk, knowing that the boy would understand. The blond Homs shrunk beneath the withering stare. Perhaps Dunban was scaring him, but the older man could not bring himself to care. "I did this for her. We can avenge her, Shulk."

He could see the war waging within his friend. The part that hungered for revenge and the part that knew Dunban's actions were unacceptable clashed on some ethereal battlefield. And he watched the bloodshed through blue eye windows, wishing that the outcome would be a favorable one. Before the boy could answer, however, Sharla pushed into the conversation once more.

She rested a hand on Shulk's shoulder as she came to stand beside him. Her lips curled into a deep frown and her usually gentle features were rigid with fury.

"Shulk," Dunban tried again, managing to keep his voice steady with ease. "We could put this matter to rest - put _her_ to rest - once and for all. Just us. The two people who care most about her in this world." A note of desperation leaked into his tone at the end, but he could not find the strength to care about or correct it.

"The answer is no, Dunban," Sharla insisted. Her kindness returned to her seamlessly, as if it had never been gone in the first place. Without hesitation, she released Shulk and approached the brown haired Homs. A stray tear of unidentified emotion - either sadness or anger - slid down her cheek as she clasped her friend's upper arm in a show of support. "We've all lost loved ones. We understand your pain. But what you're doing isn't okay. Think about how Melia must be feeling... Does she know?"

"We... haven't yet discussed the terms of our marriage," he admitted.

Sharla shook her head sadly. "You have to tell her." Then, without even the slightest warning, the woman's anger flared up again. "Or else _I_ will." She calmed down effortlessly and smiled around the room. "Well, I think I'll help myself to that guest suite Melia set up for us. Who's coming with me?"

Dunban stayed rooted to his spot as the rest of his companions filed out of Whitewing, accompanied by one of the guards. The other remained at his post, expertly pretending that he had not heard any of the freshly ended conversation.

Reyn hesitated at the transporter as the others all disappeared. "Hey, uh, I'll still go with ya," he called out. "If you want, I mean... Um... Congrats on the engagement, by the way..."

He sighed impatiently, turning his back to his remaining friend and massaging his temple with two of his fingers. The headache was sudden, but he knew exactly what had caused it. Or rather, _who_. "Goodnight, Reyn."

* * *

In the morning, Melia considered herself to be in much better health. Despite her anxiety about the day's events, she met everyone with a smile and she took to her breakfast with ladylike eagerness. Even the day itself seemed to compliment her cheerful mood. Brilliant sunshine, azure sky, and fluffy white clouds. It was stunning, almost as if Bionis itself was joyful. And it should be. The trials of yesterday were over; it was time to have a fresh start.

"You are absolutely beaming, Princess," Minister Lorithia said as she approached the girl. Although her words had positive connotations, there was an element of poison laced beneath them. "What has you in such good spirits today? Perhaps you have learned of the First Consort's misfortune?"

Without warning, a thundercloud rolled into her peaceful scene, but she allowed herself to humor it for a brief minute. "I have," she admitted, slowing her pace to allow the Minister of Research to catch up and match her stride. "Yet I take no pleasure in it. In fact, I have plans to negotiate her release later today. For the moment, however, I am otherwise occupied with making the necessary arrangements for my wedding." She paused, thinking. "Perhaps you would like to come along?"

"No thank you, Your Highness," the woman replied. "Although I am certain that Asdis would be thrilled to accompany you in my stead." Only venom in those words.

It was a strange game they played. Melia was not even sure that it could be called such a thing. But, with no other words coming to mind, she had little choice. Perhaps, 'contest' would be a better descriptor. Yes, she rather liked that one. Even if she did not know in what way they were competing, it definitely felt like they were. Never on the same team, always aspiring to outdo the other.

She smiled in spite of herself. The words she had planned sat upon the tip of her tongue, eager to be spoken. They would truly crawl beneath the Minister's skin, she had no doubt about that at all. "Perhaps I shall do that, then. Thank you for your insight. It is always appreciated."

Lorithia bared her teeth, feigning a good-natured smirk. "My pleasure."

With that, the two parted ways. The older woman stopped dead in her tracks, watched the Princess continue on, then whirled around to pursue her own path.

Melia was nearing her destination when the feeling of a hand brushing against her arm forced her to stop and glance around rapidly. Her heart rate increased to the point of causing physical pain, yet she stayed visibly calm as she came face-to-face with Minister Asdis. The woman forcibly linked arms with the younger High Entia then continued walking at a brisk pace. As usual, she cradled a stack of documents and multiple writing utensils in her free arm and wore her sharp framed glasses on the end of her nose. They appeared slightly crooked this time, but she did not seem to notice. Her green eyes stared out over the tops of her spectacles, analyzing her surroundings.

Then she settled her gaze on the Princess and grinned. "Oh, Your Highness! I'm so glad I caught up with you!" she exclaimed, practically dragging Melia behind her in her excitement. "Lorithia told me that you requested my presence and I was, of course, more than happy to oblige. And she had an exquisite idea for me to propose! See, what if, rather than hiring an expensive wedding planner, I take that role, free of charge? Wouldn't that be such fun?"

"Yes, I suppose so, but-"

"I knew you would agree!" Asdis said as she pulled her captive toward the Ascension Hall teleporter. "Good morning, Donnis!" Then she stepped onto the faintly glowing platform and continued talking when they arrived. "We must settle this with your father, but I'm sure he'll have no objections."

"He certainly will be pleased, but-"

"Oh, I'm so eager to begin, I can scarcely contain myself!" She paused, gave Melia a sideways glance. "Were you trying to say something, Your Highness? Please do forgive me. I tend to go on a bit." Then she turned her emerald gaze toward the throne. "Wait just a moment. I'll talk to the Emperor and get this whole situation settled. Don't worry!"

Melia sighed as she watched Asdis trot into the Audience Chamber, dropping papers and pens as she went. So this woman was to be the one to plan the wedding... Well, she knew it could not be as terrible an idea as she assumed. She knew she had the annoying little habit of assuming the worst. But surely, the Minister of Records was not completely ignorant. She had to have had redeeming qualities at some point, otherwise another, more suitable person would have been chosen to fill her current position.

Truly, the woman's only problem seemed to be her tendency to be disorganized and overly talkative and easily sidetracked and... Melia stopped that train of thought. No one said poor Asdis had to be perfect. In fact, was it not better that she had all these flaws? After all, the more she lost focus, the easier it was for the Princess to substitute her own ideas into the wedding plan. Indeed, that situation was definitely more favorable than a planner who ruled the agenda with an iron fist. She simply hoped the Minister would not neglect a vital part of the wedding ceremony.

By the time Asdis returned, Melia was not so concerned about the possibility of the event utterly failing. She even managed to smile at the woman.

"Everything has been sorted out," Asdis said. "Are you ready?"

"Yes. Let us begin."


	9. Chapter 9

The buildings in this part of the commercial sector were a little too dilapidated for Melia's liking. Of course, she did not doubt Minister Asdis's sense of direction. Although, considering the woman's generally scatterbrained nature, perhaps she should have been more concerned. Yet she followed her guide without hesitation, weaving through piles of debris and occasionally picking up the flyaway documents or dropped pens that Asdis seemed to leave in a trail wherever she went.

It was eerily quiet as the pair turned on to an even narrower street - no merchants calling out their wares or people haggling or children darting in between stalls laden with goods. The only sound was that of the wind as it stirred the heaps of trash. The buildings that lined this road seemed to squeeze together and their architecture, though decently ruined from centuries of neglect, was reminiscent of ancient times. She glanced around at the chipping paint and broken in windows, found herself wondering exactly what she had gotten herself into when she agreed to allow Asdis to take over the process of planning the wedding.

They stopped at the door of a small shack-like store that had a faded purple sign swinging loosely above a cracked window. The Minister of Records smiled widely as she attempted to make a grand one-armed gesture towards the shop, as if the pitiful little place was some haven they had dedicated years of their lives searching for. But the Princess felt a twinge of doubt deep inside herself, a hint of distrust.

Asdis raised an eyebrow at Melia then shrugged ever so slightly. She straightened the sharp frames of her spectacles, pushed them up further on her nose. The movements she made had a fidgety edge to them, as if she too was nervous about whatever was behind the door. Finally, after smoothing the material of her dress multiple times and reorganizing her stack of documents, she pushed the door open and strode inside.

Melia hesitated. Something about this whole situation seemed odd, suspicious even. A part of her felt almost like she was being led into a trap. She had that uneasy feeling, rapid heart palpitations, constricted lungs that made breathing nearly impossible. But she forced those feelings aside and followed the older woman into the rundown shop.

The interior of the place was much nicer than she had expected. The carpeting appeared to be spotless, most likely having been cleaned very recently, if not that same day. And the entranceway was well lit. She allowed herself to relax once she saw the racks of dresses in the next room over, each neatly arranged by size, color, and style. Her feet carried her to Asdis's side as the Minister spoke with an elderly woman by a poorly crafted mannequin. They seemed to be in deep conversation, but their voices cut out as the Princess approached them. The old woman's emerald eyes went wide when she recognized the face of the future Empress.

"Your Highness, this is my mother," Asdis said once Melia stopped walking. "She has been a dressmaker for almost three centuries. We would be honored if you would choose to wear one of her designs for your wedding."

"Well, I shall certainly look around," Melia assured, smiling at the wrinkled, hunched over woman.

"Thank you, Princess," the elder replied, bowing her head in a show of respect. Then she looked up with a crooked grin, gestured toward a group of three racks, each one hung with dozens of white dresses. "Perhaps you would like to start over here?"

Melia nodded and walked over to the racks that the dressmaker had indicated. She ran her hands along the fabric of each gown, appreciating the gentle caress of surprisingly fine silk against her fingers. It took her only a few seconds of this before she found one that suited her purposes. Just a simple white dress. She did not want anything too elaborate, for fear of being accused of trying to hard. This was not an arrangement she was eager to fulfill and she was determined to let her choice of dress reflect that. But Asdis appeared at her side as she removed the gown from the rack.

"That one?" she questioned, one eyebrow raised. Then she set her towering pile of documents and pens and other such objects on the floor, searched through the rack vigorously once her hands were free. She produced multiple dresses and, although breathtakingly beautiful, each was more extravagent than the last - all ruffles and lace and intricate beading with flaring skirts and skin-tight, low-cut bodices. "Try these on. There is a place to change just beyond that curtain."

The weight of the four gowns was staggering. Melia nearly dropped them as she struggled toward the privacy behind the sheet that hung from the ceiling. Once she stood where the others could not see, she allowed the dresses to fall out of her arms, pile up on the floor at her feet. She sighed as she stared at herself in the mirror. Was she really so old that she was required to marry? There were no signs of age, however. Surely, she was still developing - granted, she was in the final stages before full-fledged adulthood, but that did not mean she was prepared to be a wife. Or a mother.

She shivered as she slipped out of her usual clothes, baring her skin to the cool air of the store. Her eyes avoided the mirror and she quickly pulled on one of the wedding gowns in order to cover herself. Unbidden, a thought formed in her head, a nagging question. Would Dunban like her body? Shame flooded through her like boiling water, but she tried to convince her mind that the concern was a valid one. After all, she was uncomfortably aware that her breasts were smaller than what most men preferred. Oh, how she envied Sharla!

When she laced up the back of the dress, she forced her emotions away and focused on fidgeting with the fabric. She smoothed the skirt then turned to look at herself in the mirror. The change seemed unusual, to say the least. There was an elegance that the change of clothes brought to her, almost transforming her into the more mature, Empress-like version of herself. She smiled a bit, ran her hands up the front of the bodice. The silver beads rolled beneath her fingers, but did not seem loose enough to fall off. Pleased by the quality of it, she shifted her attention to the remainder of the gown.

It rested off of her shoulders and boasted a plunging neckline. However, in this case, she allowed herself to appreciate how it exposed just enough skin to keep her husband-to-be interested. She swirled around, watched the skirt expand and flare outward. The dress was relatively simple, yet elegant and had already received Asdis's approval. Perhaps this was perfect...

She stepped out from behind the curtain, a hint of nervousness jolting her physical senses. Gaze falling on the two other women, she opened her arms. "What do you think of this one?"

The elder rushed forward, unable to contain her excitement. "Beautiful," she cried. "Just beautiful! You look like a goddess, Your Highness."

"I absolutely agree, Mother," Asdis said, bouncing on her toes. A shower of papers fell from the top of the pile in her arms and she stooped to collect them with a mumbled apology. Then she stood up straight again, glasses sliding down to the tip of her nose. "That dress appears almost as if it was made just for you - a perfect fit!"

"Then I shall wear it for my wedding ceremony," Melia decided, certainly sounding more confident than she felt.

* * *

The rest of the late morning and early afternoon was filled with similar pursuits. She rushed from one place to the next, purchasing and planning and repeating the process indefinitely. It placed great strain upon her, but she knew she could not complain. At least the majority of her duties were taken care of. The cake, the invitations, the seating arrangement, the music - all of that had been prepared. Finalization of the plans would occur in the morning and the rehearsal of the ceremony was set for the evening before the actual wedding. But she tried not to think about that.

For the moment, she was permitted to do as she pleased. And her first order of business was to check on Kallian. Since the encounter from the previous day, she worried that his needs were not being properly met. So she strode toward the infirmary with swift steps, eager to fight for his right to remain conscious. However, when she arrived, his assigned bed was empty. Her eyebrows furrowed as she stopped in the doorway, looking in to the room. All signs of her brother had been cleared, as if his hospitalization had never happened.

"The Minister of Health was not pleased when she saw His Highness..." a small voice said. Melia whirled around, startled, and found one of the healer's assistants standing there. "She demanded that he be roused and released..."

"Thank you," she replied then headed out of the infirmary. Silently, she was grateful to Minister Eirena for perhaps unintentionally saving Kallian from what most certainly had been abuse. But the gratitude soon gave way to suspicion and she found herself wondering why he had been treated in such a way to begin with. Surely, he had no enemies in Alcamoth...

She weaved a winding path through the palace grounds in search of her brother. Yet, she could not locate him. After nearly an hour of aimless wandering, she lowered herself onto a garden bench to rest. Perhaps he was locked in a meeting somewhere, unable to break free and see her. Perhaps simply waiting for him to stumble upon her would produce better results than actively seeking him out. So she settled into the smooth stone, admiring the flowers that surrounded her with tiny bursts of color.

The sun shone down on her, bathing her in the golden rays. It felt nice to be able to relax like this. And it most definitely was not an opportunity that she often had. Therefore, she was determined to enjoy it to the fullest, despite the anxiety that bubbled in the pit of her stomach. She closed her eyes against the light, leaned back. The position left her heavily reliant on her sense of hearing to detect danger, leaving her fairly defenseless in the case of a sneak attack, but she could not bring herself to care. Although, she _did_ wonder where Catlaina had disappeared to. The woman failed to report for duty that morning - an occurrence that was far from common. She simply hoped that her guard was alright.

"Mind if I join you?" Her eyes snapped open at the sudden sound, glancing around rapidly in search of potential danger. When she discerned that her life was not at risk, she let her gaze settle on her husband-to-be.

"Of course," she replied as she scooted over to one end of the bench. Dunban sat beside her with a bit of a sigh. Turning her head slightly, she scrutinized his expression. The Homs man had quite a few matters weighing on his mind, she decided after a moment then allowed herself to look away. "It is a beautiful day today..."

"Indeed," he said, but Melia noticed that he did not follow her gaze. Instead, he remained completely focused on her. She angled her body towards him, a question on her lips, but he spoke again before she could voice any sort of concern. "We must speak. There's... something I should tell you and I don't think it can wait."

"What is it?" She could not keep herself from appearing curious, yet deep down, she was more nervous than she intended to let on. The tone of his voice... Perhaps he would tell her that he was already married or that he had been having second thoughts about their arrangement. Or perhaps he simply did not find her beautiful, intelligent, and strong enough to consider her as his life partner. She prepared herself for the worst, body tensing in worried anticipation.

She could shoulder whatever burden he unloaded upon her, she knew she could. But, at the same time, she wondered where she could place it when the time came to set it down. It could very well muck up her life if she did not find its proper home and that was not something she was prepared to deal with. Yet, on this day, she considered herself fortunate, for another interruption prevented Dunban from speaking.

"Sister, I have been searching for you since I was released from the infirmary," Kallian said as he approached the bench with a handful of guards following behind him. They all seemed faceless; none of the five were Kennet - something Melia worriedly took note of. His gaze shifted to Dunban and he paused to consider his next words, a strange expression on his face. "I did not know you were keeping company with the Homs hero..."

"It has not been long," she said, hoping to reassure him. "Other duties have held my attention for the first half of the day and I am only just having the opportunity to rest now."

Her brother did not reply immediately. There seemed to be a sort of calculation occurring behind his eyes, but he did not put words to any of it. Surely, he knew that he was not required to share such thoughts with her, especially ones he considered to be sensitive or inappropriate for discussion in the presence of outsiders.

"May I ask what kept you occupied, then?" he said at last, once again becoming his cheerful self. Except something seemed off about it, as if he did not truly feel as happy as he looked. "I had hoped we could have had lunch together, but you were nowhere to be found."

She found herself hesitating, unwilling to share her recent planning exploits with him. A small voice in her mind reasoned that right then was not the proper time to tell him that she had been making preparations for her wedding. But she was reluctant to blatantly lie to him. How could she do such a thing when she had preached to him the importance of being open and honest to the ones he cared about? She knew she had to follow her own advice, yet felt a sharp spike of fear stab at her heart. There was no guarantee that he would understand. Surely he would, though... So she decided to take a chance.

"Minister Asdis and I were making arrangements for my wedding," she said, staring up at him with an almost defiant glint in her eyes, daring him to speak ill of the plan.

"What are you talking about?" A faint redness flooded his features as the words registered in his mind. Tension drew his body in tight lines, the softness of an older brother's portrait long forgotten. Without a doubt, she knew he was angry, but she did not know how to calm him.

"Dunban and I are to be wed the day after tomorrow," she explained. The defiance she once felt shriveled into nothing and, in its place, she felt timid, worried that she had crossed a line somewhere. Her brother appeared truly enraged, causing her to unintentionally shrink away from him. As if that could save her... Dunban's hand came to rest over her own, which was still braced against the bench. A show of support. Melia's cheeks tinged light pink at the thought.

But her brother noticed the interaction with eyes darkened by unbridled fury. He took hold of Dunban's collar, dragged him up from his seat. The Homs man stumbled, caught off guard by Kallian's sudden action. Quickly regaining his footing, he pushed the Prince away from him lightly, ever mindful of the guards who were all watching with hands on the hilts of their swords, prepared to draw in case of danger.

Melia cringed as her brother turned from Dunban and directed the full force of his anger at her. He stepped toward her, menacingly, as if he might soon become violent. Fear drained all the blood from her face. She had never felt like this with Kallian before. He had never threatened her when they were young and certainly, such an incident had not occurred in recent times. She stood slowly, edged away from him, distinctly feeling the cold stone of the bench brush against the back of her knee. A part of her nearly made her legs give out, let her settle down again and pretend that nothing was wrong.

He did not stop his advance, did not seem to understand that he terrified her. His hand reached out to grab his sister's arm, but Dunban stepped between them, effectively blocking the Prince's attempt to take hold of Melia.

"Do not touch my bride. Your Highness." The honorific was placed at the end as an afterthought and there was no real respect in the words. In fact, they sounded rather poisonous. Like a baited trap, the Homs seemed to be trying to lure Kallian in to trouble of sorts. Yet his expression of shock at the High Entia's next words disproved that theory.

"Fight me," the Prince demanded, drawing his sword from its scabbard. Melia gasped, fought the urge to simply run from what was about to happen. In the stunned silence, he reclaimed control over himself and forced his rage down from an inferno to a low burn. "Let us have a duel, hero of the Homs. If you should defeat me, you shall have the freedom to do whatever you wish with my sister." Then he smiled, unsettling, crooked, as if he were a man possessed by insanity. "However, if I defeat _you_... Well, I think I shall kill you on the spot!"

Dunban glanced back at Melia, perhaps searching for something within her eyes. Then, having located only fear, he turned once more to Kallian and nodded. "I accept."

The Prince nodded once then turned to the guards. He instructed them to not interfere regardless of how the battle seemed to be progressing. They replied their understanding a bit grudgingly, but they were sworn to obey him. Unless, of course, he was endangering himself. But a duel was a different matter altogether. It had been a part of the High Entia tradition since the ancient times. In the last few centuries, however, the practice decreased in frequency. The only one that Melia herself had ever witnessed took place about fifty years prior - in her childhood. She did not remember the outcome, though it was surely unpleasant.

Silently, the guards backed away, clearing ample space for the duel. She felt her muscles freeze with each step they took. The bout had yet to begin, but she already feared the results of it. Her mind and heart screamed in unison for once, attempted to warn her that she would soon be witness to a death in the capital. But she knew she had no power to prevent it. With all of her remaining strength, she set herself down on the bench unsteadily.

"You may have a moment to prepare yourself, of course," Kallian said as he returned his attention to Dunban. "Being a man of honor, I shall allow you this without question. Please inform me when you are ready to begin."

"I assure you, I need only enough time to draw my sword." He did so in a single, fluid motion, grasping the hilt in his good hand. Then his dark eyes met the Prince's teal ones. "I am ready."

"Then let us settle this."

They circled the allotted space, each one waiting for the other to make the first move. Warriors had special fighting instincts, Melia noted, ones that came from years dedicated to both training and real battle experience. She knew she was still in the process of developing her own, but even she knew that, in an honest duel, it was easier to respond to an opponent if they attacked first. And that knowledge merely made her anxiety for the beginning of the skirmish increasingly intense. Her teeth dug into her bottom lip unconsciously.

She set her gaze on Kallian, analyzed his expression. His eyes were dark and teeth clenched with anger and concentration. But, like their father, he was not known for being patient. The self-control that remained within him wore thin then broke. Before his sister could even recognize that break, he lunged at Dunban, beginning the duel with a wide horizontal slash. The Homs dodged easily, but made no counterattack.

After a few more lunges that were meant to test the opponent, the battle took off at breakneck pace. When one jabbed, the other dodged. When one sliced, the other parried. Steel clashed against steel repeatedly, a sound that rang out in the once serene air. Melia winced at each meeting of the swords, concerned for the safety of both men. Any tactical error could mean the end of a life and that was not something she wanted to experience. But a piece of that stuck in her head, making her wonder. The death of one of the fighters was expected in a duel like this. Kallian knew that too. So, did he intend to lose purposefully?

The thought made her stomach churn. Perhaps she should interrupt, put an end to the foolishness. They could very easily have an adult conversation about the engagement, after all. But she knew stopping the fight before it naturally concluded went against the centuries old law that had been put in place by her ancestors.

Dunban seemed to be making no effort toward offense. He allowed the Prince to rain down endless attacks without a single response of his own. Always just parrying or dodging. Melia watched him with interest. There was a grace in the way he moved, a force that captivated her completely. She found that she could not tear her eyes away from him. Her gaze focused on the muscles in his good arm, the way they strained as he fought off the weight of Kallian's attacks. Sweat began to drip down his face and she studied that as well. The little clear beads fascinated her. What was a natural bodily reaction seemed almost mystical when it happened to him. She felt a slight pang of desire coil in her stomach, throb dully. And she became quite aware of a hollow ache somewhere inside her body. How peculiar...

It had to have been scientific - those strange things she was feeling. A pure wish to better understand all of the slight differences between a Homs body and a High Entia body. That was the only way to describe her overwhelming urge to place her hands upon Dunban, feel how his muscles tensed and responded to physical stimuli. She shook herself back to reality.

Her brother's attacks seemed to land less frequently now. He staggered and cursed and sweat relentlessly. It did not take professional scrutiny to determine that his body neared the point of collapse, that he could not push himself much further. Dunban, on the other hand, appeared only slightly tired. He pressed forward then, as the High Entia attempted a final slash, he kicked the Prince's legs out from underneath him. Melia distinctly heard her brother exhale sharply when his back hit the ground. She leaned forward, anxious.

The Homs rested the tip of his blade against his opponent's throat. Turquoise eyes glared up at him, slightly dazed but quickly regaining focus.

"Go on then," Kallian panted. "Kill me. It is your right, as the victor."

But Dunban shook his head. He sheathed his sword in its scabbard then offered his hand to the fallen Prince who hesitated before allowing himself to take it. The Homs dragged the older man to his feet. "I won't kill you," he said, all too aware of Melia's sigh of relief. "That is not the man I intend to be."

"I... I understand. Thank you..."

"Your Highness." One of the guards stepped forward, gesturing for Kallian to approach him. "Perhaps you would like to retire to your chambers for the day? You have strained yourself too far..."

The Prince nodded his reluctant agreement then glanced at Dunban over his shoulder. His eyes were defeated and, when he spoke, his voice sounded too quiet, broken. "Take care of her..." Without waiting for a reply, he allowed the group of guards to guide him away from the scene of the duel.

Melia stood, walked until she paused at Dunban's side. They watched her brother stumble off toward the interior of the Imperial Palace in silence. A small part of her wondered what thoughts passed through his mind right then. Yet, at the same time, she doubted that she truly wanted to know. If he was proud of his bloodless victory or ashamed that he allowed such a thing to occur, she tried not to care. He deserved the same privacy that she had, in regards to emotions. She would not pry.

His fingers brushed against the back of her hand and she looked up at him, surprised by the sudden contact. A faint grin played at his lips, capturing her full attention. She watched as his mouth formed words, but could barely hear them, enthralled as she was. Then her focus returned. Embarrassment rushed through her as she realized what she was staring at. She forced her gaze to shift upward to Dunban's eyes. Slowly, he turned his body to face her. Without consciously deciding to do so, she did the same. That little smile faded and a serious expression took over. He placed his good hand on her arm, caressed it with his fingers. Shivers ran down her spine at the feeling, but she did not have the time to think about that.

"I hope you don't doubt me, Melia," he said, voice a soft murmur. "It is my solemn vow that I shall care for you until the end of my days. Kallian won't ever need to worry about your well-being while I am your consort. I promise."


	10. Chapter 10

The sun rose once more over the water of Eryth Sea, glinting off of the waves and sending its brilliant rays skittering across the sleeping landscape. Above the ocean, Alcamoth lay still in the feeble light, waited for the first of its inhabitants to rise. All was tranquil, yet there was a tangible tension. An anxiety or perhaps an eagerness of some kind. Whatever it truly was, there existed a strange feeling in the air, as if the entirety of Bionis held its breath in anticipation, sitting in the eye of an invisible hurricane.

In the Imperial Villa, Lucio shifted his weight from one foot to the other. The guard beside him raised an eyebrow in his direction, but he paid the man no attention. He glanced down the corridor, paced a few steps, then returned to his post. With a sigh, he leaned his spear against the wall behind him and checked his timepiece for what must have been the third time in just as many minutes, even though his shift had only begun an hour ago.

"Are you expecting something?" his companion asked. "Or do you really not want to be here?"

"Nothing in particular," he said, taking up his spear once more and returning his full focus to the job at hand. "I suppose I simply wish to be relieved from duty for today. I'm feeling rather ill."

The other man shrugged and looked away. Lucio sighed again, searched for a distraction as he attempted to ignore the churning in his stomach. Truthfully, the only sickness he felt was that of unease. A part of him wondered if he was merely overreacting, if his body had invented some nonexistent fear for him to obsess over, but he knew he could not fail to correct such a bad feeling. Regardless of whether or not its cause was rooted in fantasy. It was a sense like an unpleasant premonition, screaming in near silence to warn him of the terrors he would be required to face that day. His muscles tensed and he cast another glance around the relatively large space, focused specifically on the grand door that led into the Emperor's suite of chambers.

Once the monarch roused himself from sleep, the guard would be able to move a little, leave the constrictive embrace of the hall. And perhaps he could slip away, unnoticed. To go see Kaelin, even though the man had almost certainly gone to bed by then. A small smile played at the corners of his lips as he thought of the younger High Entia, expressing an infinitely small amount of the joy that the name inspired within him. Yet he forced his mind away from the pleasurable warmth that had spread through his body and tried to focus instead upon the far end of the corridor, where it took a right-angled turn and he could see no further.

Just as he began to take control of himself, return to the proper state of mind, the door he had been guarding opened. He flinched slightly, though the motion was barely enough to be perceived by those around him. Quickly regaining his composure, he bowed his head and mumbled a greeting.

"Ah, good morning," the Emperor said as he paused in the doorway. He nodded to each of them formally then turned to walk in the direction of the Villa's exit. But he halted before he could take more than a few steps, whirling around to stare straight through Lucio's armor, piercing the young man's flesh with the cold steel of an unfriendly gaze. "You... You are Minister Caul's son, are you not?"

"I am, Your Majesty."

"I see..." Sorean's eyebrows drew together thoughtfully as he gave the guard a thorough examination. "Interesting. You look very much like your father did, when he was a younger man." A distant expression took over his stormy blue irises and he continued on in musing tones. "I think you shall do quite nicely. Handsome, strong, dignified... From a good family as well." His eyes focused on Lucio once more, sharp, appearing as if he expected a response.

The guard shrunk beneath the appraising stare, distinctly uncomfortable with the Emperor's assessment. He was not certain why it unnerved him, but he could not ignore the returning sense of anxiety. Perhaps it was the implications of what the monarch intended to use him for. A shiver staggered down the staircase of his spine and he bit down hard on his lower lip without meaning to.

"I will need a moment to speak with you privately," Sorean said. Then he spun around, strode down with his two guards following scarcely more than three steps behind him. "We have much to discuss, but that must wait for a more favorable time."

"Of course..."

He trudged after his ruler, boots heavy and heart heavier. The rumors must have been worse than he remembered them being if the Emperor planned on setting aside some of his precious time in order to personally see to Lucio's punishment. No good things would be born of a private conversation with a man who could legally do anything he pleased. And who would question an emperor when a lowly guard went missing? Even Minister Caul - his own father - would not be so bold as to disrespect such a powerful man. Although, he had to wonder if his father would notice his absence at all, if he were to be murdered. With his mother gone, having long since abandoned them to heed the Bionis's call, he had little confidence in the man who had raised him. Kaelin would be aware, but...

Kaelin. The name sent electricity shooting through his veins, shoving his blood aside and momentarily freezing his heart. He felt some guilt flood over him, though. Poor boy... He wondered if the younger guard would be lonely, if he would experience anger at being deserted without warning. Or if he would simply be saddened, left to his own devices, trying to heal.

The thought made Lucio sick. He kept pace with Sorean, but he could not concentrate on his duties any longer. Not with Kaelin's unshed tears on his conscience. Remorse overwhelmed him and, although he had not yet been taken from the boy, he felt as if he was already at fault.

For the next few hours, he remained bonded to his post in the Audience Chamber, watching as the Emperor sorted out multiple administrative issues with the Ministries. He tried not to listen too closely, for he knew that the inner workings of the Empire were not his business. However, he could not help but eavesdrop when he heard the Minister of Investigation mention First Consort Yumea.

"I cannot release her, Your Majesty," the Minister said, shaking his head slowly. "We still must question her. She is, without a doubt, connected to the attempt on your daughter's life, but we have yet to determine how she was involved."

"And are we to postpone the Princess's wedding ceremony until you can understand that she is not capable of committing such a terrible crime?" Sorean demanded. He took a few deep breaths to calm himself then changed the focus of their conversation. "Give her two days - today and tomorrow - then you may proceed with the interrogation. There are motherly duties that she must tend to in order for Melia to be properly married."

"Who shall prevent her from escaping?"

"She has no reason to run," he replied, a hint of annoyance slipping into his voice, "for she has done no wrong. But if you must, assign her a new set of guards. Ones that are loyal to you alone."

"Very well." The Minister bowed his head slightly. He cast one more doubtful glance toward the Emperor before he retreated to fulfill the orders he had been given. When he was gone, Lucio found himself frowning deeply.

Of course, the entire Empire had learned of the events that had occurred in the High Entia Tomb during Melia's Trial, but he was sure that very few people were aware of Yumea's suspected involvement. Perhaps it was a sacred privilege to be in a position to hear all these secrets. And yet, he found himself feeling less fortunate and more like he had been kicked in the stomach. The sensation became more intense when he noticed the Emperor's eyes locked on him. A knife twisted in his gut, he tightened his grip on the spear in his hand, preparing for the words he knew were coming.

"Lucio, approach the throne."

His heart rate increased, causing his chest and lungs to spasm in agony. Hoping to calm himself, he held his breath, counted to ten as he strode towards the platform. Sorean gestured for him to walk up the ramp and he obeyed without a word. He released the air slowly then froze in place, a mere couple of feet between him and the most powerful man he had ever met.

"There is something I must ask you to do," the Emperor said, lowering his voice so that it would not carry to the ears of the other guards. "See, although I am convinced that my dearest wife has no involvement in the plot against the Princess, I worry that Minister Fannar will imprison her permanently. I fear that she will have only this one opportunity to properly plan the ceremonial dinner for the bride..." He let his voice trail off as he assessed the young man's reactions.

"I do not understand, Your Majesty," the guard admitted. But he _did_ have a vague guess of what the old man was thinking. "What would you like me to do for you?"

"Marry my daughter tomorrow."

Lucio felt all the blood drain out of his face. "E-Emperor... I do not think I can-"

"It shall be most convenient," he continued as if he had not heard the feeble protest. "Your father will no longer worry about you and I think those rumors he described to me shall fade rather quickly. Then Melia will be able to have both traditional suppers planned by the First Consort. It is a brilliant idea, do you not think so?"

"Yes, but-"

"Excellent. I will inform the Princess of the new addition to the wedding," he said, smiling widely and patting the guard's shoulder. "The rehearsal is this evening in the Ascension Hall. Be prepared for it. I will not tolerant tardiness."

The younger man bowed his head, understanding that, no matter what he said, the Emperor would turn a deaf ear towards his protests. He felt his heart slow back down to a less painful speed. At least the situation was not as terrible as he had feared. This was no punishment; surely, it was meant to be a reward. But there was still a sinking sensation within him, a piece of his being that hated his father for sharing such a personal matter with Sorean and worried what Kaelin would think when he found out about this new arrangement.

"I understand, Your Majesty." Yet, despite his words, he tried to object one more time. "The Princess is a beautiful, intelligent woman and I am eager to wed her. Although, I do not think Dunban will be very keen to share her with me."

"He will do as I say," the Emperor assured.

* * *

By midday, Dunban found himself a small window of time in which he could escape from the nagging women that wished to fit him for fancy suits to wear for the wedding. He had assumed that such preparations were reserved for his bride-to-be, but, much to his dismay, most of his morning had been occupied by trying on clothes finer than any others he had ever seen and approving the decisions Melia had made the day before.

He lowered himself into the armchair in his room in the Imperial Villa, heaving a sigh as he did so. The cushions pulled him in eagerly, urged him to rest even though he was not at all tired. His eyes closed briefly and the world faded in and out of his consciousness. Sometimes, a scent or sound drifted to him, but for the most part, he allowed himself to fall into the warm blankets of blissful ignorance. Until, of course, there was a knock on the door, an urgent pounding that jolted him out of his relaxed state.

Not even a panicked heartbeat passed before he arrived at the door, flinging it open to reveal to him the identity of his visitor. A part of him had wondered if it was one of his friends who had found themselves in some sort of trouble. They all shared the same suite, after all, and it would be easy to exit one bedroom, travel to another.

But it was not Reyn, Shulk, or any of the others standing there. Relief flooded his senses as his mind registered the face of Lucio - a troubled face, no doubt, but not one that indicated danger. His tensed muscles put themselves at ease and he stepped back slightly in order to let the guard enter the chamber beyond. Something about the man's expression told him that they would both need to sit down for this encounter.

"Dunban, I... I would like to ask you for your help," Lucio said as he sat down in the armchair. "I could think of no one else to turn to."

The Homs man sat on the end of the bed, raising an eyebrow at his unexpected visitor. He did not say a word for a moment, just watched to see if the High Entia would continue on his own. But, before too long, it became apparent that he would need some prompting. "What is the matter? Has something happened?"

"The Emperor asked me to join the wedding ceremony and become Melia's Second Consort tomorrow." He looked away, toward the window, and stared out over the city. There was faint movement far below them, though nothing distinguishable. Then he turned back to Dunban, cheeks blushing furiously. "I can't marry her. I've already promised myself to someone else. We are not officially engaged, but..." With a small shake of the head, he returned his thoughts back to the Homs. "Please help me... I don't know how to prevent this."

Dunban sat in utter silence, unsure of what to say. Here he was, being asked for answers, yet all he had to offer were more questions. Why would Sorean force Melia to marry two men at the same time? How would that even work out? What could he do to stop it? Was there anything to be done or would they just have to go through with the Emperor's plans and manage the situation as they went along?

He found himself nodding slowly as if he had a solution. And he noticed how Lucio's eyes lit up. Sighing lightly, he leaned back on his good hand. "I'll help you, but I must know everything."

"Everything?"

"Well, maybe not _every_ detail," he said, smiling good-naturedly. "Only the important ones."

For the next few minutes, Lucio explained what had occurred in the throne room - from the Emperor's initial proposal to the little details about Yumea. The only things he neglected to tell Dunban were the identity of his lover and the fact that his father had requested the union in the first place.

"Hmm... That's quite a predicament," Dunban said, frowning. "But it sounds as if Yumea's imprisonment is the only reason that you were added to the ceremony. So if we can prove her innocence. we no longer need another man in the relationship." His frown deepened, a visual expression of the thoughts developing in his mind. But then he returned his attention to the guard, eyes questioning. "Why did you not tell the Emperor about your lover?"

"I wanted to protect...her." There was a long pause before he said the last word of the sentence, as if he were trying to decide whether or not to use her name. Then, hurriedly, he continued on. "Because, sometimes a potential consort is so desired that their previous spouses just disappear, leaving them free to marry the royal progeny."

Dunban felt his eyebrow raise sceptically, but he refused to question a man's fears, especially when they related to the safety of his loved ones. Back before the Mechon attack on Colony 9, he would constantly have nightmares about terrible things happening to Fiora. The worst of those dreams usually included the younger girl taking up the Monado, becoming crippled as the hellish weapon took its toll upon her body. Even just thinking about it was enough to send an unpleasant shudder through his entire being. But the horrors that once colored his unconscious thoughts now painted new images. With his sister deceased, he was left to relive her death almost every night as he slept.

Sometimes, he could escape those too real imaginations by working himself to his very limit, allowing pure exhaustion to create a black hole within his mind. The result was a dreamless sleep, muscle soreness, and a strange sense of being completely and utterly empty upon waking - a fragile husk.

He pulled himself away from such negative thoughts and focused on the current problem. "Well then, I believe we should visit with the Ministry of Investigation, don't you?"

* * *

It had been over an hour of pouring her entire soul into the document on the table before her and she was both physically and emotionally exhausted. She leaned back into the plushness of her chair, cast a glance around the expansive library. The place was relatively quiet that day, no visitors aside from the usual workers and the three guards that she had begrudgingly agreed to take with her when she was released from the cell.

With a worn-out sigh, she returned her focus to the paper she had been reading. Thus far, her preparations for Melia's ceremonial dinner were going smoothly. She had selected several options for the main course and arranged for five different desserts as well as eight types of wine. Indeed, she was rather proud of the menu she had created. However, much of the work still remained. Selecting the location, arranging decorations, preparing and delivering a speech for the newlyweds. And the list went on and on.

She picked up her pen then scribbled a few more notes on the page. A reminder to use bouquets to serve as ornamentation for the tables, specifically made up of blue and white flowers - those were the ones Melia liked the most. Smiling faintly, she continued on with her planning until she was interrupted.

"I am glad to find you in here, Yumea."

The First Consort rose to her feet and turned around to face her husband. She bowed her head courteously, if only to hide her sour expression. "Yet you did not visit me until now. I suppose you will say you have been busy, correct?"

"That is the truth," Sorean said as he closed the abyss between them, reducing the space to a minor gap. "I have been occupied with the task of securing your freedom. Or perhaps you wished to remain in your cell? Were the accommodations so to your liking that you have decided to stay? What a shame. I am certain that Melia will miss you at her wedding." He whirled around, intending to leave now that the conversation had been ended, but he allowed himself a slight hesitation.

"She came to see me yesterday," Yumea said, stepping closer to the Emperor. When she stood by his side, she rested a hand upon his arm. Although her actions were gentle, her voice still sounded like venom, each word poisoning his ears as he listened intently. "And we spoke for quite some time before the guards forced her to leave."

Silence. Then, with a look of resignation, he replied to her clear attempt to bait him into the argument. Just like always. "Did the two of you get on well?"

Yumea considered her answer carefully before she allowed it to leave her mouth. The response had to be perfect. At that moment, she knew she could not afford a tactical error, otherwise she would lose the advantage in their looming fight. She smiled warmly and placed herself directly in front of her husband, pulling his hands to her hips. His eyes glanced around the library to be sure that their actions were not being observed and she almost laughed when she noticed that the large chamber was deserted. The servants knew better than to linger where they were not wanted.

"We got on very well," she purred, leaning close to him. "But that is not the answer you desired."

"Do not place the blame on me," he said as his fingers curled tightly into the fabric of her dress. "If you did not put yourself in such situations, we would have no need for this conversation. You have always attempted to sabotage her, though I did not think you would go so far."

She pressed her hands against his chest, letting the flawlessly round teardrops roll down her cheeks. "My opinion of you was once much higher. Now, you wound me with your accusations..."

"I have never breathed a word against you, my love."

"And what have you said in my defense?" Her demand was met with another silence, this one long and uncomfortable. Anger flared in her eyes, causing her to pound her open palms against him. Her blows thudded dully on his armor and she stopped herself when her hands began to sting. "You have no faith in me. Speak freely now and tell me that you think I did it. _Ask_ me if I played any part in that dreadful business."

"Did... Did you arrange for my daughter to be assassinated?" The words were reluctant, as if he did not wish to hear his deepest doubts in the open air. But he had said them nonetheless.

Honest tears sneaked out of the corners of her eyes. She did not try to prevent them, just let them fall and dampen her skin. When she opened her mouth, toxic response on the tip of her tongue, her voice faltered. She took a few deep breaths to calm herself down before trying again. On the second attempt, forming sentences was easier, yet she still felt weak.

"I love her, Sorean, I swear it. But I love Kallian more."

He glared at his wife, pushed the woman's body away from him before she could latch on to his armor. She huffed at his rough treatment then smoothed her skirt, meeting his hostile gaze with one of her own. A small piece of her wished that she could end this encounter lightly and give the Emperor a quick kiss. Yet she knew better than to risk it. His moods were known to be more volatile than his father's and, despite the deep, slightly poisonous love she felt for him, she would not piece together their shattered relationship. Not right then. And perhaps that was the poisonous part - she loved being miserable with him.

The Emperor heaved a sigh, his anger flowing out with his breath. His hands reached out for Yumea, pulled her back against his chest. Their eyes met and she felt her own negativity slip away. It was far from her reach, like everything else. All her troubles melting, dropping from her body, leaving her unburdened. Her husband pressed his lips to hers and held her close as she wrapped her arms around him.

Heat washed over her. She felt her cheeks redden, the tears evaporate from her skin. It seemed as if such a long time had passed since they had been so intimate with each other and she experienced a thrill of excitement at the idea of making up for lost time. And the deeper they allowed the kiss to become, the more difficult it was to stop it.

Her heart pounded in her chest, breath transforming into heavy pants as she failed to properly replenish the oxygen in her body. All her senses came to life, each feeling, taste, scent sparked through her nerves, exaggerated by pure adrenaline. His hands caressed her sides and each touch sent currents of electricity jolting along in her veins. It felt so good, as if they were young again, their passion a newly birthed inferno rather than dying embers.

They broke the kiss to breathe, filled the once silent chamber with the sounds of their panting. She stared into his eyes and recognized the desire steeping in his irises. More than anything, she wanted to reciprocate that expression, push this unusual feeling to its absolute limit. But she knew they could progress no further. Reluctantly, she pushed him away as he leaned in to begin their kiss anew. He raised an eyebrow at her, perhaps questioning her sanity. Now that they had connected romantically - for the first time in about a century - he did not understand why she would choose to leave their needs unfulfilled.

"If we do not hurry, we will be late for the wedding rehearsal," she said, falling back into her emotionless tone. There was no trace of her disheveled self. That version had been smothered for the moment, but perhaps the time would come to revive her.

"Ah, yes, of course," Sorean replied as he struggled to regain control over his passion. "Let us not keep them waiting."


	11. Chapter 11

The silvery metal of the altar glowed faintly as the sun's dying rays fell upon it. Stained glass windows threw their colorful scenes across the tiles and some of the High Entia would pause beneath the display, faces awash with golds and blues and greens, awestruck. Melia found herself watching from a distance as her guests freed themselves from the glass's enchantment and took their seats with eager whispers. She herself stood beside the altar, one of the priests close by, preparing his final notes on the ceremony. Aside from him - a balding man with worn out feartures yet lively eyes - she felt alone in the cathedral.

Impatient, anxious, she began tapping her foot against the floor as her heart rate increased to dramatic levels. Tomorrow was her wedding day. The sentiment repeated over and over in her mind, sometimes broken up by thoughts of _I_ _am marrying two men at once_ or _I will be forced to...offer my virginity to Dunban after the dinner_. She only stated facts, did not dare ask questions for fear that she would lose herself in the endless sea of uncertanties. Perhaps it was not likely, yet she preferred to be cautious.

On the opposite end of the large rectangular chamber, the double doors swung inward, revealing the Emperor and his First Consort. Melia stiffled a sigh as she mentally prepared herself for what she was about to endure. Her stepmother seemed furious, even from a distance, with her body drawn in tense lines and her eyes ablaze. The woman strode forward until she stopped directly in front of the staff of Ministers that stood in the center aisle - Lorithia, Asdis, and Caul. With irritated gestures, she sent them in all different directions. Asdis bounced toward the priest, leaving behind her usual trail of dropped writing utensils and precious documents. Lorithia rolled her eyes then exited the building.

Melia frowned slightly as she noticed Caul marching towards her. The old man paused a respectable distance away and bowed deeply. When he straightened, he fixed her with an uncharacteristic smile - one of warmth rather than bitterness. He had been a soldier, once upon a time, and she supposed that had changed him, made him cold, afraid. In the same way combat had corrupted her. She returned his cheerful expression to the best of her ability, her mood now soured by invading thoughts of the men she had lost.

"Princess, I wished to express my gratitude," he said, voice stiff like his spine, formal. "Not many women would be willing to marry my son due to the rumors that have been circulating as of late. Your kindness is humbling."

"Rumors?" She kept her tone even, resisted the urge to raise an eyebrow at him. Her lips frozen in a cordial smile as she awaited his reply.

He simply nodded, making it clear that he had no intention of going into detail. Neither of them said a word and the tension thickened the air considerably. The Princess shifted a fraction of an inch as she watched his eyes study her. It was not the potential judgement that teased her nerves with uncomfortable jitters. Instead, she found herself wondering at the implications of what was left unsaid. Should she have been concerned that she did not know about the social goings-on in her city? Did her ignorance negatively impact her ability to rule these people? Perhaps, but her ancestor in the Tomb had said...

She shook her head slightly, clearing away the memories that threatened to rush forward. Now was not the time to reflect on what had happened in the sacred place. Turning her full attention back to the Minister of Defense, she cleared her throat. "Yes, well... If you are not inclined to speak, I will not force you."

"Thank you, Your Highness," he said. Then, abruptly, he changed the subject. "The rehearsal will begin the moment your consorts arrive. Lorithia was sent forth to locate them, so I hope that it will not be much longer now. Stay here beside the altar until then."

"Ah, I see..." She wanted to add more to her response, make a remark about how eager she was for the ceremony to begin. However, she knew she had little energy to spare on lies and, in the event of an emergency, she figured there was no harm in saving her deception for when it was truly needed. The wedding night, for instance, when she would be forced to have intimate relations with...Dunban, most likely. He was the First Consort, after all. Although, she could not keep away the nagging doubt, the concern that she might have to consumate both marriages at the same time.

Deep down, she felt herself cringe, but outwardly, her body did not give away even the slightest tremble. She pressed her lips in to a strained smile, hoping that her companion would take no notice of her discomfort. Thankfully, Minister Caul had already begun to retreat and she made no move to prevent him from leaving. Now she was alone, trapped in her thoughts and visualizations of fears.

Yet she did not have the time to dwell on them, for her mind was yanked forcibly towards the entryway as the twin doors burst open. Her lungs froze, her heart raced, his face becoming all that she could focus on. The subject of her nightmares, the uninvited guest in her sweetest dreams... Sensation rushed through her, nameless and overpowering. She bit the inside of her lower lip softly, watched Dunban and Lucio stroll down the aisle to the altar. When they reached her, she gave each man a small curtsey. Although she could not explain it, the movements were graceful in spite of her anxiety.

"Greetings, Your Highness," Lucio mumbled, bowing his head.

Dunban merely smiled at the High Entia girl in front of him. She wondered if there was a purpose behind his decision to not verbally acknowledge her, but she decided to let that line of thought drop. It would do her no good to be upset by such petty slights. Instead, she chose to move on, entering into a rather upbeat conversation with Lucio.

Later on, when asked about what they had talked about, she would not have an answer. All she could do was explain what it felt like. The words themselves were lost to her, yet she remembered the exact course of the discussion. Cheerful at first then dissolving into something else entirely. Of course, they still spoke in lighthearted tones, but the difference could not be questioned. It seemed fake - empty words that were veiled by transparent pleasantries. On his side, she sensed a bitterness beneath his replies, as if he thought she had purposefully put him into this situation.

She wished she could have explained, though she knew there was not enough time to do so. From the far end of the chamber, she heard Asdis's voice ringing out, giving instructions related to positioning as well as etiquette. Those in attendance shifted about in loose groups as they followed the Minister's directions. Melia slipped into uneasy silence.

* * *

The moon had nearly reached its highest point by the end of the rehearsal. Alcamoth's Princess dragged her feet as she made the long trek back to the Imperial Villa. Her only goal right then was to rest, give her sore eyes a short respite before they would be forced to open once more. In her exhaustion, she felt numb, unable to access her reservoir of emotions. The fear, the defiance, the warmth that radiated out from her body when she had looked at Dunban... All were gone and she found she could not determine if she was happier without them. Maybe that was just the emptiness.

"Melia." It was Dunban's voice and she instinctively turned to face him. He lengthened his strides to catch up with her. "I'd hoped we could speak in private."

"What about?" she asked, regarding him with an inquisitive expression.

"Sorean's First Consort."

She felt her blood cool as her mind flooded her with thoughts of Yumea. This was a woman who has presumably attempted to murder her. What could she say about someone who had hurt her so terribly? And, more important, why did Dunban want to know? Without a conscious thought, she tensed her shoulders, prepared herself for an unwelcome onslaught of questions. She gave him a slight nod in spite of her reluctance, signalling for him to continue.

He did not answer immediately and instead studied her reaction. But soon, he seemed to decide that he could proceed. Although she was distracted by her wandering thoughts - the ones that strayed toward tomorrow - she tried to listen.

"As you've been told, Yumea has been locked in the Tower of Investigation due to her involvement in your... incident," he began, strolling along beside her as she made her way toward the Imperial Villa. "I think it may be possible to have her released on account of insufficient evidence. But I'll need you to vouch for her good character."

"And you believe my word will be enough?" she asked then glanced in his direction. His face lay half in shadow and she found it difficult to read his emotions. "The Ministry might not have much in regards to proof, however, what they do have is damning."

"But it isn't," he insisted, placing the emphasis on his last word. With an even expression, he met her curious teal eyes. "I paid them a visit earlier in the day and the only piece of evidence they have is an eyewitness testimony. From Kallian. He saw Yumea in conversation with a masked woman. That isn't exactly enough to condemn her to life imprisonment."

"Then I shall assist you," she said with a decisive nod of her head. It seemed as if ages had passed since she last felt so confident. Perhaps, something about Dunban made her feel... lighter, as if she had relinquished a vast majority of her burdens. And, with that mental block removed, she could finally make her own choices. The thought nearly forced her to leap up and down in excitement, but nagging suspicion kept her grounded. Where were her troubles now? If she did not bear them, then someone else would have to...

Shaking her head to clear away those thoughts, she turned her body towards the Homs man. "By doing this... Would we be able to postpone the wedding?" A hopeful tone crept into her voice despite her best efforts to keep it down. It would not be silenced.

"No." The gravity of his answer left the air dry and stifling. "Not ours, anyway. Although, I think they would at least consider removing Lucio from our ceremony."

A wave of heat rolled through her body, along with confusion. Was that an undertone of protectiveness she detected? That slight growl beneath his voice sent shivers down her spine and, to her surprise, they were not the unpleasant kind of tremors. Her heart raced as she replayed his last statements in her mind; the way he said 'our' made her body ache strangely. She tried not to focus on how possessive of her he was, fearing that her own body would begin feel odd, perhaps reciprocating those emotions - whatever they were.

She shoved herself out of her thoughts before they could turn more intimate and suggestive. As it was, Dunban already seemed to be staring at her, most likely concerned with her well-being. With a sheepish smile, she cleared her throat.

"Well then... Thank you," she said, increasing the pace of her walking, trying to put some distance between herself and Dunban. All she wanted to do now was curl up in bed with a cup of tea and perhaps forget about what awaited her the next morning. Those thoughts pulling her along, she managed to maintain her speed until the transporter that led to the Villa. She paused to look around, see if her Homs companion had followed.

But he was gone.

Heart seemingly heavier than before, she crept onto the teleporter platform and flashed upward in a burst of pale blue-green light.

* * *

 **A/N - Hey guys. I'm so sorry that I took so long to update. School has kept me really busy and I've had little inspiration to help me stay awake to write. Trust me, if I didn't feel so tired all the time (as I have been recently), I would've been staying up late and writing hundreds of words every day. Instead of a hundred or less. Anyway, thank you so much for reading and reviewing this. I know it's a short chapter, but I promise the next one will be back to its usual length, if not longer. And it'll definitely be out much sooner than this one. Thanks for understanding!**


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